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CONSPIEACY. 



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JOHNSTOWN: 

Journal Book and Job Feinting Office, 

1874. 









tl^ 



Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year eighteen hundred and 
seventy-three, 

By JOHN WELLS, Ccx^^/ . 
In the office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. 



THE CONSPIRACY 



PERSONS OF THE DRAMA. 

Tlie Kmcr. 

Dr. Joir:isr, Greelc Professor. 

The Peince, 

Paul, 

Frank, 

Mark, !^ Studeiiis, 

Ernest, 

Anuelo, a Clairvoyant. 

Julian, 

Tlie Princess, Daughter of the King. 

Anna, Daugliter of Dr. John. 

Pauline, 8ister to Paul. 

Other Students^ Citizens, Lords, Ladles, &c.., &c. 



ACT I. 

ScEKE I. — A Grove in front of a College. 
Enter Frank, Mark, Ernest, Anoelo, Julian, and other Studenifi. 

Frank. This is the spot. We'll wait here for the 
Prince. 

Ernest. There comes old Plato. 

Frank. Bless his good old soul. 

He has a heart to match his grand old pate. 
I doubt if ever towered a nobler brow 



2 THE CONSPIRACY. ACT I. 

On Grecian statue. All heads bare. Hats off. 

Enter Dr. John. 

Dr. J. Good morning, gentlemen ! What enterprise 
Have you afoot to signalize this day 
And beauteous place % It must be some high aim, 
That in such brave array could call you forth. 

Frank. On deeds of high emprise are we intent. 
Know' st thou of some fierce monster to be slain, 
Or beauteous damsel, wandering all forlorn. 
In forest lost, or lonely captive kept, 
In lofty tower, or dark, deep horrid cave, 
By giant grim, or bloody baron bold % 
Oh ! speak ! that to the rescue v>^e may rush. 

Dr. J. Monsters enow, of vice and wrong, there are, 
That cause sad desolation in the earth, 
' Gainst which to fight were truest chivalry ; 
And damsels, too, there are forlorn, who sigh 
For gallant knights to come to their relief : 
But bearded chamjDions they do prefer. 
Wait, my dear sirs ! till ye are out of school, 
And have your beards, ere ye adventure forth 
On such achievements. 'Twill demand of you 
All of the manhood ye will e' er attain. 
But, speak, sirs ! tell me, wherefore are ja here. 

Frank. I will expound 

Music heard. 

Angelo. Hark ! Hush ! There's music here. 

Ernest. ' Tis floating in the air. Whence can it come 'I 

Angelo. How sweet and spirit like it is ! 

Dr. John. It breathes 

A strange, unearthly sweetness. It must be, 
That in the air some gentle Ariel 
Is hovering over us. 

Frank. More like, 'tis Puck, 

The merry fay. He' s stole Coins' lyre, 



Scene I. the conspiracy. 3 

From off the pine upon tlie mountain top, 
To practice on it airs of fairy land- 
He seeks to lure us off to some lone place, 
Some deep, dark dell, or secret strange recess. 
Amidst the forest, where the fairies haunt. 
And where bewildered in the tangled wilds 
AVe'll be within his power, for him, the imp, 
To play his pranks and knavish tricks on us. 

Marlx.. Hist! Hist! The music dies away! 'Tisgone! 

Dr. John. Now, speak, sir ! Tell me, wherefore are 
ye here ? (course 

Frank. I will explain. You know that by the 
Of custom immemorial, in this 
Most ancient seat of learning and of wit, 
We students, here, to-morrow, publicly. 
Must be in scholarship and eloquence, 
Examined by the learned men of the realm. 
Then he, who first in merit shall be found, 
Will be entitled to a crown, a wreath. 
That on his brow should by the King be placed — 
E'en by the sacred hand of majesty. 
But to tlie wars away the King has gone ; — 
And none is there to do this duty now. 
But she, his child, the lovely Princess, whom, 
As regent he has left to rule the realm. 
As his imperial prototype, the sun. 
When off he goes to other realms afar. 
Both by the moon, sweet regent of the night, 
In gentle reflex of his mightier beam, 
Still unto us dispense his blessed light. 
Hence has our royal comrade, the good Prince, 
The cousin of the Princess, gone to learn 
From her, if she will take her father' s place 
And grace to-morrow' s victor with his crown. 
Oh ! doubly precious will the glory be 
From her fair hand ! The Prince will soon be here. 



4 HIE coJrsPlR'ACT. Act I 

And we have come to meet him and to learn, 

As soon as it may be, the word he brings. 

Lo ! yonder conies he. Mercnry ne' er sped, 

Swiifc messenger of Heaven, v/ith word from Jove^ 

To those who watched for him more eagerly. 

Tliemudc leewnl if (fain . 

Angelo. The mu'sic comes again. 

Frank. Hark ! how it swells- 

As from afar 'twere wafted down to ns. 
Hist ! Now it dies away, as np again 
'Twere borne on viewless wings to airy heights.. 

Ernest. It comes again ! 'Tis here ! 

Marlz: 'Tis here! 

Julian. 'lis there !' 

Angelo. It is up yonder. 

MarTc. It is in the breeze. 

Franlc. It is some merry spirit of the air, 
That' s doing this for fun, to puzzle us, 
And tease us with his elhsh melody. 
He' s laughing now at our perplexity. 

Dr. John. There is a thread of sadiiess in the straiLfv 
Methinlis the harps of Judah hung upon 
The willows by the streams of Babylon, 
Though uttering no murmur of 2/ioii, 
May yet unto the pitying winds have breathed 
Just such capricious, yet sweet, plaintive tones. 

Marie. ' Tis some melodious zejpliyr in the trees. 

FranJh. Perchance some fancy- stricken youth has* 
Among these leaves a lyre ^olian, [strung 

For the airy fingers to perform upon. 
And thus these airs, that so enchant our ears. 
Are but the touches of the airs of Heaven. 

Enter the rrince. 

Skcdenis. Hail to the Prince ! Peace !■ Silence !■ 
Let n.s hear. 



fe^CEWE L TITE CONSrlJlACY. ^ 

Prince. Rejoice, comrades ! I bring j<yu glorious 
Tlie Princess graciously doth grant our prayer, [news.. 
To-morrow slie will come with all her court, 
Cfreat lords and ladies fair and learned men, 
To test our scholarship and eloquence. 
In the evening, at the palace, she will give 
In honor of our class, a festival ; 
A royal one, whereto we all will go 
And taste of earth' s selectest revelry* 

Fraiik. Heaven bless our lovely Princess. 

Mark. As she is good 

And beautiful, may she be ever blest.- 

Angelo. We'll see what Homer in his raptures saw. 
When Yenus, in her beauty, walked before 
Him on Olympus. 

Frank. There'll be a Hebe there, 

Whom I shall see, with nectar—on her lips,. 
Sweeter than Jove e'er sipped. 

Dr. Jolin. And doubtless all 

The Graces will be there and troops of nymphs. 
Invite a "poet, and the counterparts 
He'll find to all the gods and goddesses. 
Give it a Homer, and each age would be 
Heroic, every mountain an Olympus. [sheet 

Angelo. Heaven, from its brightest constellations,, 
On our sweet Princess happiest influence. 

The numc heard,' 

Mark. Hark! Hark! 

Prince. Where is this music ? 'Tis most strange.- 

Frank. 'Tis some enchantment that doth haunt i\%& 
place. 

Prince. It softly swells, then dies upon the breez©*. 
Rising and falling with each airy wave. 

Angelo. It seems as from above afar it came ; 
Haply the harpers harping with their harps. 

F'ranJi. I'll bet the pearly gates are now ajar. 



6 THE coNsniiACY. Act I. 

And these sweet notes have thence escaped ; or else 

It is some genial spirit stolen forth, 

Some siren of the golden harps come down 

To charm and lure us with these hints of Heaven. 

Prince. Comrades! where' s Paul, our learned 'and 
'Tis strange that he's not here. [gentle friend 'i 

Ernest. We've seen him not. 

Julian. As you do say, 'tis strange he is not here. 
'Tis said that he aspires unto the crown. 
Perhaps his courage fails him and he yields 
The prize to bolder aspirants — else sure 
He would be here. 

Prince. I' U go and seek for him. 

I've news that will be music in his ears. 

FranJi. Hold! there's that strain again. It nearer 
comes. 

Prince. It louder is, as if it nearer came. [this, 

Marie. Huzza ! see there ! see there ! What tree is 
That bears such fruit as that % 

Paul dimovered in the Tree. 

Franh. Ha ! ha ! Strange fruit indeed ! 

Some species new. Special spontaneous 
Development ! Most like, on some such tree 
Sprang forth that old primeval ape, that was 
Our great ancestor. Darwin ! Science that ! 
Or else — I have it now — a theory 
Historical and theological. 
And exegetical and pomological, — 
I do suspect, that 'tis the kind of fruit. 
With which the serpent tempted mother Eve 
In Paradise. 

Marh. And all the mothers since. [let 

Franik. Were one of Eve' s fair daughters here we' d 
Her take a bite and find out what it is. 

Paul comes doiaifrom the Tree. 

Prince. By all the powers and spirits it is Paul. 



Scene I. the coistspiracy. 7 

Julian. By all the fiends and devils it is Paul. 

Prince. Art tliou this spirit that's been mocking ns % 

Frank. Stick pins in him and see if 'tis real flesh, 
Or only some thin spiritual stuff. (dare^ 

Julian {aside). I'd stick him with my dagger, if L 
Or knock him in the head, or poison him. 
I hate him, for he doth outrival me. 
His genius, spite of all my art and toil, 
Doth baffle me. Were he out of my way. 
The triumph and the crown, and more than all. 
The smiles of the sweet Princess would be mine. 

Paul. Good friends 'twas but a jest— I will explain. 
I had come out alone into this grove. 
And here was sitting on this grassy bank. 
Listening unto the music floating round ; 
And catching on my lute, from breeze and bird, 
Such notes as pleased my fancy. Thus I made 
The little melody that you did hear. 
Just then I saw you coming and I thought 
Pd try my music on you. So I hid 
In these thick branches, and as you came near, 
I threw out on the breeze the notes you heard ; 
And then the breeze did add its cadences, 
Its trills and swells, and waft them to your ears. 
It was its wild and fitful character, 
Caught from the zephyr, that perplexed you so. 
And puzzled you to know whence came 
The mystic and uncertain harmony. 
The jest succeeded better than I thought. 

Prince. 'Twas a most delicately merry jest ; 
'Tis clear the zephyr did conspii'e with you 
And instigate the mischief. 

Franh. Tell us, sir. 

Why is it, that thou wanderest thus alone, 
Companioned but by the complaining brooks, 
Midst these still groves ? Hast thou some secret deed, 



:S TnE coisrsrinACY. Act I. 

Some sin committed, tliat tlioii liere dost mourn 1 

Pi&,ul. Only tlie general sin, that all slioiild mourn, 
Have I to sorrow for. 

Frank. Has the blind god 

Then smit thee with his sad yet sweet dejection ? 

PomI. Love ne'er at me has aimed his poisoned shaft- 

Frank. Wert thou thus sad and lonely from thy 
Did melancholy mark thee for her own % birth I 

Paul. Not sad. nor melancholy ; when alone 
Then the least lonely am I. Airy shapes 
And beings bright do keep me company. 

Prince. I do believe thee. Thou in thy rich thoughts 
Hast better than a monarch' s jetinue. 

Dr. John. Sadness is weakness ; melancholy is 
Disease, and if indulged in they are vice. 
But to be glad and to rejoice in life [beauty- 

And God's sweet light, is health and strength and 
It is the finest culture, the fair bloom 
Of all right manhood and sweet womanhood. 
' Tis wisdom, duty, worship, the true praise. 
The effectual prayer, the heart's best offering, 
The incense most acceptable to Heaven. [tasks. 

Prince. Come, friends ! let'^ hasten now unto our 
T'hink what the morrow has for us to do. 

Frank. Of the bright eyes that on us then will beam. 

Mark. And the ssweet smiles that with those beams 
will blend. 

Ernest. And of the honors that we then shall win. 

Julian. And of the crown that one of us will wear. 

Paul. And the fair hand that will bestow that crown. 

Dr. John. And of the honor of these ancient halls 
Of learning, whose proud fame ye must sustain. 

Prince. These groves of ours will yet become 
As were of old the walks of Academe. [renowned 

Frank. Aye, when our histories shall yet be writ, 
They'll tell how we did love these ,clierished seats, 



SCE]^i: II. THE COXSPIRAOY. 9 

These haunts of learning and j)hilosoplij, 

And proudly say 'Lo, there they walked with Plato." 

{JjOicing to Dr. John.) 

Br. John. Away ye then ; to toil give ye the day, 
That ye yonr parts to-morrow well may play. 

■ Exeunt all. 



Scene II. — Ix feoxt of the College. 
Eater Frank, Mark and Ernest-. 

Frank. 'Wise as the serpent, harmless as the dove,' 
What does that mean % Why, it means policy ; 
That in wise ways we should pursue good ends. 
The spirit of the dove we should possess. 
Its gentleness, its soul of lovingness ; ^ 
But with it we should also cultivate 
The serpent' s sharper qualities ; its tact) 
Its vision keen, its power of secrecy, 
Its pliancy to bend to obstacles 
And wind around them to its purposes. 
Our aims should e'er be generous, — ^to do good, 
To make men happy and earth beautiful, — 
But then to realize these aims and work 
Out these results of good and beauty, we 
Must wisdom have, discretion, patience, tact 
And policy ; orj as the text doth bid, 
The serpent with the dove we must combine. 
In all true goodness the main element 
Must be good sense. To do things wisely, well, 
Effectually, is duty just as much 
As 'tis to do at all. To go to Rome 
We need not strike a bee line, dig the Alps, 
Or scale the rocks and glaciers. Rather we 
Should shun the craggy peaks and seek the vales 



10 THE CONSPIEACY. ACT I. 

And practicable passes. Tlie right way 
Is that which surest leads to the right end. 
The mountain pathways up the valleys creep. 
At sea, the sailor trims his course to wind 
And current. So in all great enterprise 
The occasion and the circumstance will best 
Suggest the way. For what is circumstance 
But Providence,— the winds that He doth breathe, 
The waves He liits and rolls to waft or dash 
Us on, upon our destined way ? ' Well, now, 
We have in view an enterprise — a work 
Before us, for our country, — to achieve 
Its liberty. A noble aim, — -is'tnot? 

Mark. In every age the special work of heroes. 
Franh. To attempt it openly, were but to dash 
Madly against the glaciers and the rocks, 

And to awake the sleeping avalanche. 

And bring it crushing down upon our heads. 

Hence from the serpent we must take our cue ; 

Through thy dark winding ways, oh ! thou wise snake, 

Cunning conspiracy ! creep stealthily. 

But not less nobly onward to our end. 
Ernest. I like it not, but it must needs be so, 

For policy and stern necessity 

Both point it out, as our true, only course, 
Frank. I too do like it not. I' d rather give 

Our banner to the winds and boldly march. 

With shout and trumpet blast and cannon peal. 

Onward to victory. I like it not ; 

But anything I'll do, and everything 

I'll dare, to win sweet liberty. 

And make our dear, beloved CQuntry free. 
Mark. Aye, anything and everything for country. 
Frank. It is the motive, that gives character 

Unto the act. A noble end 

Ennobles every step, that leads to it. 



Scene II. the coistspieacy. 11 

To climb tlie mountain, we must bend and stoop, 

And on the craggy steeps and slippery ways, 

Oft on our knees creep up to glorious lieiglits. 

I have now in my mind a character. 

One of the noblest spiiits of the times. 

Whose life has been one long conspiracy. 

Hated and hunted of the tyrants, he 

With plots and wiles has met and baffled them ; 

His genius, zeal and purpose pure and high, 

Mightier than were an army in the field. 

In prison, exile, pain and poverty. 

Yet has he been a power in the world, 

A terror and a check to tyranny. 

AVith pure, unselfish and untiring zeal. 

He' s toiled on, ever to his country true, 

And to his great idea of liberty, 

Alike the truest hero of the age. 

And most inveterate conspkator. 

Marh. Aye, Italy in all its long, bright list. 
Has not a name of purer lustre. 

Ernest. Tell me, how now do stand the citizens % 

Frank. Eager for insurrection ; just ablaze. 
The city' s like a kindling fire ; a breath 
Once blown, the flame of revolution forth 
Will burst, to startle and to light the world. 

Ernest. Has Paul yet give his assent ? 

Frank. Not yet ; 

But he'll be with us. We must have his name. 
' Twere worth to us more than an armed troop. 
He'll be the Brutus of our enterprise. [will be, 

Mark. The Cassius thou. Your names, as their' s, 
Like constellated stars in history. 
Or greater still, ye' 11 be the Washington 
And Adams of our revolution. Or 
Epaminondas and Pelopidas, 
Of Grecian glory, your bright prototypes 



13 THE CO]N^SPIEACY. ACT I. 

We'll name, in what ye' 11 yet effect, we trust, 
Of high achievement, for your country wrought 
And proud renown. 

Franli. There were two Adamses with scores 

Of patriots and noble men, who stood 
With Washington. So of our names, there'll be 
A cluster in the heaven of history. 

Ernest. But think you not, our friend 
Is of a nature all too gently tuned % 
He's not of the stern mould that Brutus was. 

Frank. True, he' s of gentle nature : Yet in him 
There is the stuff, that heroes are made of. 
I do remember, one dark gusty night, 
When through the startled city piercing rang 
The cry of "fire." The citizens, awaked 
And guided by the glare, that lit the night, 
Rushed to the conflagration. But too late.. 
A stately mansion stood, enwrapt in flames. 
That with fierce exultation swept the ski^s, 
And shook defiance at the eager crowd 
That gazed at them in sad stern impotence. . 
When, lo ! a woman's shriek did pierce our ears, 
And swiftly, through the pallid multitude, 
The whisper ran that 'twas a mother's cry, 
And that her babe was in the biarning ruin. 
The mocking fires smote back the rushing crowd,. 
That sprang unto the rescue. Baffled shrank 
Brave cxen, who had stood eye to eye with death. 
And hope died in our hearts. When suddenly 
A youth appeared amidst the flames, that seemed 
To seize him as their victim, as he leaped, 
Fearless amidst them. For an interval, 
A breathless, agonizing instant, he 
Was gone, lost to our eager straining sight, 
And the flerce conflagration wildly waved. 
Its crests upon the wind, as it had won. 



Scene III. 'the coNsriiucY. 13 

Another prey ; when, lo ! again he came, 

And shook the flames from off him and did place, 

The sleeping babe upon its mother's breast. 

Ernest. ' Twas Paul. I do remember it. 

MarJi:. Aye, Paul. 

I too was there, and even now the shouts 
Ring in my ears, with which the people caught 
Ilim in their arms and bore him home in triumph. 

Frank.. He' s been their model hero since that hour,. 
There' s slumbering in him a very mine 
Of iron strength and latent energy. 
From whence an Iliad of noble deeds 
And high heroic action might be wrought. 
This very night our club doth meet again. 
Paul will be there and Join with us, and then 
Within our influence and linked with us 
In patriotic thoughts and aims, we soon 
Will draw him into the conspiracy. 
And then we'll make him captain, and his name 
And popularity will serve to win 
Troops of good men and true^ unto our aid. f 

{Exmi/iit orrmes.y 



Scene III. — Night. A large suMerranean room, leith seats, hanners and e7nhlems of' 

a secret society,. Sc, <&c. Frank and MARKjixing a skeleton in the highest 

seat. Other Students coming' in. 

MarTc. It is a shapely, well developed skull. 

Frank. Aye, it has all the bumps. ' Twas a grand 
head. 

Marie. See how the moral looms and towers aloft 
Above the massive intellectual. [earth, 

FranJc. He would have been among the great of. 
If he had lived. A noble character. 
And yet as gentle and as good, as great. 
His face was Truth' s own mirror, where to look. 



14 THE CO^TSPIRACT*. ACT I. 

'To see kerself, liow pure and fair slie was. 
And wit and gladness were as natural 
'To him, as sparkles to a mountain spring, 
'Or ripples to a rill among tlie liills, 
Or music to a Avell tuned instrument. 

Mark. He was the founder of the club, you say. 

Frank. Aye, so ; its founder and first j)resident. 

Mark. Poisoned, you said ? 

Frank. So said the doctors all. 

His death was sudden and most strange. Yet ere 
He died his body he bequeathed to us, 
That we should keep him with us, when we met, 
E'en as in life we loved and honored him. 
And so we did preserve his skeleton. 
And voted it perpetual president. 

Mark. A most rare choice. A Jovial president. 

Frank. There; so. Now let us see how he' 11 perform. 

By "means of S2')ring-s he causes it to rise, bow, reach out its hand, <£c., <6e. 

Mark. That's a most courteous and stately bow. 
Frank. This is the gri]3 initiate — and this 
The sqijeeze of fellowship. 
Mark. A whole souled squeeze. 

A hell tolls. Enter Ernest. 

The bell tolls. 

Frank. It strikes one. 

Ernest. It is the time. 

The witching and most awful hour of night. 
Wow spirits walk and witches ride in the air. 
I' ve seen them not, but oft have heard it said, 
That in wild, lonely, blasted spots they meet 
To practice incantations, charms and spells, 
And all their devilish rites and sorceries. 

Frank. Are they all here % 

Mark. The number is complete. 

Frank., {taking a seat heside the skeleton.) 
It is the hour. All please to order come. 



Scene III, the coNsriRACY. 15 

We'll noAV commence tlie appointed mysteries. 
'Tis first in order to initiate 
JN'ew members. 

Ernest. There is one wlio waits without, 

Seeking to be admitted to our band. 

Frank. Into the presence bring him. Silence, alL 

They lead Paul in hlindfoMed and place Mm before the skeleton. 

Franh, {addressing Paul.) 
Wonld' ht thon become one of onr brotherhood, 
And give thy life np to the sacred work, 
To which we pledge and do devote ourselves 1 

Panl. 'Tis my desire so to devote myself. 

Frank. The great peculiar aim for which we join 
In this most holy league and covenant. 
Is to achieve our country' s liberty. 
To this we pledge our lives and sacred faith. 
For this, we swear eternal secrecy, 
That ne' er beyond these consecrated walls. 
Shall breathe a whisper of these mystic rites. 
Then, as a brotherhood, with holiest vows 
Of friendship and affection, we do bind 
Ourselves to cherish ever, each to each. 
True faith and trust and gentle sympathy. 
And we are pledged to live lives pure and high, 
By no dishonor stained, or foul wrong deed, — 
But to each generous, lofty aim devote ; 
That each one may, in life and character, j. 
Exalt himself unto the loftiest reach 
Of his capacity. Each one should be, 
E' en as a Grrecian statue, Phoebus-like 
In form and look and action ; and our lives 
We' d make as dramas for Elysium writ, 
All full of noble acts and beauteous scenes. 
Which they, the blest, might love oft to rehearse 
For their high pastime, in the happy vales. 
Truth always and truth only may we heed. 



10 Titi2 co:srs PIRACY-. Acf I. , 

Beauty for eartli and happiness for man, 
And through them, ever Glory unto Grod, 
The motive and the aim of all our toil. 
But unto tyranny and every form 
Of slavery, we do swear unceasing war, — 
A war to end in death or victory. 
Wilt thou unto these aims devote thyself, 
And join with us in a perpetual league \ 

Paul. Unto these lofty aims I j^ledge myself. 

Frank. Canst thou, as on an altar lay thy life 
And all its aspirations and fond hopes, 
A willing offering to thy fatherland ? 

Paul. Myself and all I am. and all I have 
Unto my country freely do I give. 

Fmoik. Then, with uplifted hand and face to Heaven, 
Swear thou, that to our order thou wilt be 
A faithful brother, even unto death. 
By Him, whom thou dost reverence highest, swear. 

Paitl. I so do swear. Faithful till death to be. 

Frank. It is enough. Invest him with the robe. 

They put a robe, and hadge upon Paul. 

Thou art our brother now. Hold forth thy hand, 
To give and take the clasp of brotherhood. 

Paul Iwlds out his hand, ivJie^i the skeleton's hand is placed in it, and the veil is 
taken from his eyes. 

Paul. Is it with Death I have clasped hands, and 
Of brotherhood exchanged ? Aye, be it so. (vows 

Yes, even thee, oh Death ! I do accept. 
My comrade and my brother in this cause. 
To thee I'll freely, gladly give myself, 
And in thy cold embrace, if need there be, 
Lie down, to win my country' s liberty. 
Aye, comrades ! brothers ! I am with you now 
And henceforth ever, even unto death. 

Frank. Our noble brother ! Welcome to our arms 



Scene III. the coin-spieacy. IT 

And liearts ! Tlioii witli us, now our ranks are full^ 
Our number is complete. We need no more. 

They croiod round Paid, shakinrf liands u-ithMm and ringing. 

Give to us thy liand, our brother, 

With it give to us thy heart ; 
Holy is the tie that links us. 

Death alone the links shall part. 

In each generous, hig-h emprise, 

Shall our banner be unfurled, — 
Our proud motto glorious, golden, 

' God, our country, and the world ! ' 

Soldiers in Life's earnest warfare. 

Ever on the side of Right, 
On the march and in the battle. 

Pressing forward to the fight. 

Give us, then, thy hand, our brother f 

Heart with hand we give to thee. 
Heart and hand for Fatherland, 

Death for us, or liberty. 

Curtain Falls. 

ScEiw; V7.—In the Palace. Guests assembled. Present, Dr. John, Frank, Anna,, 
Marjk, Angelo, Julian, and other Students, Lords, Ladies, &c., <&c. 

Frank. The Princess comes. How beautiful slie is !" 

Anna. That's Paul with her. She leans upon his 
ISTe'er by two arms was more of beauty Imked. [arm. 

Frank . Do you forget that we are arm in arm ? 
Not for her crown would I exchange with him. [bring. 

Anna. No crown, nor wealth, nor rank to you I 
Nothing but poor, poor humble me you'll get. 
But I will try and make it up in love. 

Frank. In getting that, your love, I will win all, — • 
All that I prize and long for most in life. 
'Tis more to me than all the world beside. 
What we love not, as nothing, is to us. 
With love we have all things, all joy, all good. 
''Tis love that gives them all their preciousness.. 



IQ THE COlN^SPIEACY. ACT I, 

Anna. True, love is tlie best wealth. How ricli we'll 
be ! 

^nter the Princess and Paul, i7ie PaiNCE and Pauline and Lords and Zadies; 
at the upper end of the room. 

Frank. She now will crown Mm with the laurel 
wreath. [the crown. 

Anna. 'Twas thought Count Julian would have won 

Franlc. He strove for it and proved himself a ripe 
Keen scholar, and with eager eloquence, 
He did address us. But more grandly Paul 
Did bear himself and spake as if inspired ; 
As if some spirit through him uttered forth 
Celestial thoughts and images. 'Twas so 
The prophets must have looked, when they did speak 
Of old, as through them poured, in words of fire, 
The messages of Heaven. As he stood 
Before the multitude, with eye afire 
And cheek ablaze, I gazed at him and thought 
Of morning, when upon the hills it comes. 
With golden locks and step of majesty. 
And all its glorious purple garments on. 
And calls the waking nations. With a shout 
They hailed him and the lovely Princess, as 
Blushing she did award the prize to him. 

Anna. Will she herself bestow the crown on him ? 

Franlc. With her own hand she'll place it on his 
And he will then select a queen, and they [brow, 

Will be the monarchs of the festival. 
He'll be a favorite. Mark the prophecy. 

The Frmcess comes forward with the Prince and takes a seat wpon, the fh/rone. 

Prince. May't please your Highness, the day's 
victor waits 
For his reward from your imperial hand. 

Princess. Let him approach. Where is the garland ? 

"j^hey hand her a Wreath. The Prince, Prank, Mare and Julian lead Paul 
forward. lie kneels. 



Scene III. the conspieacy. 1^ 

Crowns should rewards of merit ever be, 
And riglitly rest on really regal brows, 
Regal by virtue of the royalty 
Of brain and culture, mind and character. 
May this be of thy triumphs but the first, 
T?he least of many glorious prizes won. 

She crmcns Paul and leads Mm -upon the, throne. 

^his is your place to-night. 'Tis yours to reigh 
The monarch of our merry festival. 
The palace your dominion is, yo-ar will 
Our duty and our pleasure to fulfill. 

Paul. Then shall my short lived reign be one of joy-. 
We'll steal an evening from the blessed isles ; 
A plagiarism from Elysium. 
But 'tis not good, for man to be alone. 
And drear, if solitary, e'en a throne. 
The sun divides his realm,, bright king of day. 
And with the queenly moon doth share his sway. 
So would I have a queen to reign with me. 
And make more bright our glad festivity. [seen ? 

Princess. Look round ! Was lovelier vision evei* 
■Choose whom thou wilt and she will be your queen. 

Paul. Of all the good, I'll have the very best, 
And of the beautiful, the loveliest. 
The one, who shares my heart and throne, must bd 
Supreme in goodness, as in majesty,— 
Peerless in face and form, stately of mien,— ^ 
Her will I choose. Please you to be my queen. 

The Princess gives Min her Jiand. 

The crown, wove for the loveliest brow, give me. 

They give Mm a wreath with which he crowns her. 

The queen of beauty and of goodness crown I the6i 
Right kingly now we'll wield our kingly powers, 
And royally show forth our royalty. 
Around the palace heap the tables high, 



!S0 The coNSPiEACY. Act 1. 

And bid all come unto our festival. 

Proclaim it as the law, throughout our realm, 

That every one to every other do, 

As he would have that other do to him. 

Invite the poets here, bid them devise 

Happy elysian games and plays of Heaven : 

We will rehearse them here, that better there 

We may act them hereafter. Life should be 

But a rehearsal of such acts and scenes^ 

As we may fitly act again in heaven, [times 

The Prince. Have we no bards, like those of olden 
With songs to sing of love and chivalry ? 

Paul. Songs are as gems, gendered in richest soul&, 
In which pure thoughts and sweet words crystalize. 
They are as flowers, that from such souls spring forth, 
Blossoms of beauty and of melody. 
Of fadeless bloom and ceaseless fragrancy. 

Pr. John. Oh, for a song, as David sang of yore. 
Could he but come again and drink anew 
The water of the well of Bethlehem, 
How would he strike his harp to loftiest strains, 
Sweeter than e'en of old, and Zion yield 
To Calvary the palm of holy song ! 

FranJc. A prayer ! a prayer, unto your majesties \ 

Paul. What is it ? speak ! if in our realm, 'tis thine^ 

Franh. ' Tis but a dance. Bid the sweet music wake, 
And lead a dance in which we may all join. 

Princess. Would' st thou to vain and idle revelry 
Have us give up these precious, golden hours 1 
What can' st thou urge for such bold rash request 2 

Fraiik. It is not vain and idle revelry. 
Dancing is natural to man as song ; 
And has in life its true significance. 
It is akin to song and melody ; 
Of the same pure and gentle parentage. 
^Tis music acted — song in pantomime. 



ScEXE IIL THE co]Srs3:>lEACY. ' SI 

Music is of the soul and ever tlience 

It seeks expression. It doth breathe itself 

Forth in the voice, in concord of sweet sounds, 

And then we call it song and melody. 

In rhythmic, tuneful movements, buoyant borne 

Upon the flow of glorious harmony. 

It utterance finds, and then ' tis dance. 

Glad, joy inspiring dance, — e'en as the billows lift 

And dance us on the deep. And in the march, 

It is the soul swell, that uplifts the form, 

And to heroic measures times the step. 

Each an expression, song and dance and march 

Of this soul music. Through all things doth live 

And breathe this spirit of sweet harmony ; 

Aye — every atom of the universe 

Is ever tremulous with uttering it. 

The whistling winds come dancing o'er the hills, 

And to the self same measures, as they come, 

The groves do spring and all the billows leap. 

In merry glee to join the revelry. 

The stars do swing each other, as they fly. 

Ring within choral ring, and hand in hand. 

Wheeling and whiiiing, dance upon their way. 

And all their mighty, mystic maze — link wove 

With golden link, worlds balancing to worlds, 

Systems to systems, groups of glories bright. 

And galaxies on galaxies in ranks 

Illimitable, countless circles vast, 

Ch'cling the eternal spaces, all are but 

An infinite measure, ever wheeling there 

And timing to immortal melody. 

'Tis said, the fairies every moonlight night 

Do have their frolic dances on the green. 

And in the vales and groves of Arcady, 

While fed the flocks upon the grassy banks^ 

The gentle shepherds, all the summer' s d-ay^ 



§2 \ THE COITSPIRACY. ACT I. 

To pipe and liarp and merry roundelay, 

With nymplis and naiads danced the hours away. 

And doubtless too, in the celestial fields. 

Amid the hymning and the harping there, 

Angels and spirits blest, with raptures caught, 

And borne on waves of wondrous melodies, 

In dance inspired of grace ineffable. 

Do oft express the excess of bliss, 

Else inexpressible, that fills their being. 

In holy exaltation David danced. 

With Israel, before the ark of God, 

Upon its way to Zion, — with glad shouts 

And hymns and peals of myriad instruments. 

And dancing 'twas he sang, 'Worship the Lord 

In the beauty of holiness' . For praise 

And prayer, and song and dance, and every act 

Of gladness and of joy, in Him and in 

His goodness, worship is, and doth show forth 

Rightly the beauty of true holiness. 

May not the lambs skip in their guileless glee ? 

May not the children shout and sing and dance ? 

And shall we not join with them in their joy ? 

Princess. 1 deem you've won your plea. I add mf 
Voice to your petition, 

Paul. 'Tis granted. So be it. 

Let music o'er us pour its fullest flood 
And on its tide in dance we'll float along. 
We'll close no channel, in which Pleasure flows 
But rather open new ones, where we may, 
And like the old Chaldean, leading forth 
Amid his blighted plains, where Eden was, 
In channels new and founts and sunny lakes, 
The waters of the river, that at first 
Did beautify and gladden Paradise, 
To win its primal beauty back again, 
iSo we the streams and reservoirs of j6j 



SCEISTE III. THE COlSrSPIEACY. 23 

Would multiply amid life' s wastes, to make 

Them bloom anew and Eden smile again. , 

Music. Paul a7id Princess, Prince and Pauline, Frank ajn,d Anna and 
others dance. 

Julian. Jove could not bear himself more loftily. 
He walks as if he were imperial born, 
And all earth's royalty strode in his step. 
Bee, how she smiles to him. Aye, it is love. 
Her soul is in each glance she turns to him. 
Ha ! Not a look she' s given me this night. 
Curse ! Curse him ! But for him that crowa were mine,. 
And with her I had led the festive dance : 
But he has stole the honors I have sought, 
For which I've toiled and would have given my soul. 
And I must slink away, thus meanly here. 
Would I could sheathe my dagger in his heart. 
Ha ! there' s another dose of that same drug, 
That served my purposes so well before. 
Poison works stiller than the dagger does, 
And better hides its tracks. I'll look for it 
And if I get, a chance at him — his cares 
In this poor weary life will soon be o'er. 
The Indian brave doth count those slain by him, 
And glories in their number. So may I. 
If I kill him, it will be number two. 
Let him keep out my way. I run to win. 
To me, for me, is right, against me, sin. 
Death, as ' tis writ, the wages are, of sin. 
I would do no unnecessary harm ; 
Nay, other things the same, I would do good ; 
But if between me and my cherished ends, 
The marks, at which it is my cue to aim, 
Others intrude themselves, why — they'll get hit. 

Cannon fired loithout. 

Ha ! there's a cannon ! 'Tis some mighty news». 
Princess. What sound was that ? 



24 THE CONSPIEACT, ^ ACT L 

Paul. It sounded like a knell. 

Franli. A knell. Ha, ha. "^o, it was but tlie wind,, 
Or the car rattling o' er the stony street, 
On with the dance. Let joy be miconfined, 
Ko sleep till morn, wdien Yontli and Pleasure meet. 
To chase the glowing^onrs, with flying feet." 

Cannon again fired. 

Princess. "But, Hark! that heavy sound breaks in 

once more." 
Paul. "And nearer, clearer, deadlier than before." 
Frank. Arm ! arm — in arm ! All round ! It is the 

cannon' s roar. 
Poubtless some glorious tidings of the war. 

Entir an Officer. 

Officer. Alas ! Alas ! 

Paul. Aught from the army, Sir ?~ 

Officer. Most fearful, terrible ! 

Princess. Speak ! sir ! Oh, speak f 

Paul. What is your news, sir ? Is it from the King ? 

Officer. Such as from Cannae erst was borne to Rome. 
A bloody battle has been fought and lost. 
They who escaped are scattered wild in flight. 
The King for refuge to the city flies. 

Princess. Alas, for my poor father I 

Paul. Alas, for our poor army ! 

Prank. Alas for our poor country !' 

Enter another Officer. 

Officer. The King ! The King ! He comes. 
Princess. The King, my father coming ! Where is he? 
Officer. Those guns you hear do herald his approach ; 
The foe will soon be thundering at our gates. [balls. 
Frank. Knocking for entrance there with cannon 

Shouts of-The King ! the King P heard icithout. 

Princess. My father come ! I'll go to him. 

Sfieunt Princess, Paul, the Prince and others. The sJiouting and firing otitmle in- 
creases. Great commotion among the guests,- who one after another go out... 



gCEN-E I. THE CONSPIEAp^r. 2g 

Julian, {aside,) The Kijig come back ! This will con- 
found my plans. 
But yet it is as well. There are more w^ays 
Than one to Rome. JSTapoleon turned 
The Alps and then he scaled them and the Goths 
Found paths for all their multitudes. 
The King' s a mad old tyrant, but he' s vain 
And can be flattered. Flattery' s the oil, 
To lubricate these rusty natures with : 
'Twill make the human mechanism work. 
With all its wheels and crooks and creaky cranks^ 
As smoothly as the rippling waters run. 
I'll haste to meet him, and I'll flatter liini ; 
And with my arts — for I will study wel| 
To serve his passions and his vanity— 
I'll steal my cunning way into his heart, 
And make of him my tool, with which to win 
Riches and power and sweeter still, revenge. 

Exeunt All, 



ACT II. 

Scene I.— In the Palace. Enter Paul and the Princess. 

Paul. To rule is God' s prerogative ; and they, 
Who under Him are rulers, e' er should be 
Pre-eminent in god-like qualities ; 
In goodness, wisdom, nobleness and truth. 
,The King should be the kingiiest of men. [thy realm ? 
Princess. If thou wert King how would' st thou rule 
Paul. So as throughout my realm, most to promote 
Beauty and blessedness. I' d think me how 
Heaven is, and I would seek to copy it 
Among my people. Mansions beautiful, 
For all the millions, midst sweet fields, should lift 
Their towers and domes majestic to the skies. 



26 mm coisrspiEACY. Act II« 

The walls, around its cities, should be Peace ; 

Its armies Liberty and Loyalty ; 

And tlieir bright armor, Justice and the Right, 

And over them the banner should be Love. 

And everywhere should man stand up erect, 

In his true manhood ; stately, glad and free ; 

'Not the poor growth of vice and ignorance. 

But glorious in full development ; 

With culture for a king, — supreme in that^ 

The kingliest of kingly attributes. 

The essential quality of the true I^ing, 

The power and halbit of self government, [deeds, 

And thence through self control, pure thoughts jusi 

Sole title unto power, sole right divine. 

Fit to bear sway and rule by serving realms, — 

First o'er himself, thence over others, king. 

And woman beauteous, with man should stand. 

Companion, peer, his mate, his other self ; 

Each to the other supplement in that 

Sole perfect whole, true dual ^nity. 

In which, the likeness of their Maker, erst 

They stood, when He, the universal Parent, 

Mother alike as Father of all life. 

Created man in His own image, male 

And female, counterpart thus of Himself. 

And Beauty, artist of the skies, should come 

With the lost plans of Eden and replant 

Its gardens and its pleasant trees and flowers 

And paradisal groves o'er all the earth. 

And make the fields as heavenly landscapes are. 

With blossoms should it deck the bowers of love ; 

And with sweet fruits fill all the abodes of peace. 

Prinoess. It would indeed be glory so to reign. 

Paul. It will be thine to win that glory yet. 

Prinoess. I'll strive to win it. "Wilt thou not assist 
With aid and counsel, when the time shall come, 



Scene II. the conspieacy: 27 

In these high aims ? 

Paul. Ah ! would I were a Hercules, 

With strength like his, to toil for thee, as thou 
Should' st bid, in every generous work, to add ' 
Unto thy glory and thy people' s good. 

Princess. As partner in the work I' d have thine aid, 
As counsellor and guide. I'll see you soon 
Again upon this theme. 

Paul. Heaven aid your G-race ! 

Exit Paul. 

Princess. Oh ! do I wrong to love him ? It must beS 
That Heaven intends it. From the first my heart 
Sprang to him. I believe it. Heaven did send 
Him unto me in its high purposes. 
So pure and yet so wise, he's as I've dreamed 
Of blessed beings in the upper world. 
Give him a golden harp and he might stand, 
As one amidst the bright and choral band. 

Exit Princess. 



Scene II. — A Moonlight Niglit. A Street in front of the dwelling of Dr. John. 
Enter Frank. 

Frank. It is all dark. I see a glimmer there, 
As if there were a light burning within. 
I'll try a song: Perhaps she will come out: 

\Ee sings.) 

Wake ! Lady ! Wake ! Fair is the night. 

There's not a cloud obscures the sky ; 
And in her stately beauty bright, 

The queenly rrioon doth walk on high ! • 

Oh ! Lady ! come thou forth, that she 
An equal loveliness may see. 

Oh, come ! the gentle breeze its tale 

Is whispering to the listening groye. 
And the enamored nightingale 
, Is pouring forth its lay of love. 
Then come with me, more sweet shall be 
The tale that I will tell to thee. 



38 THE cdiTSPiEAcr. Act II; 

The liglit dotli move. There' s some oiie stirring there. 
Another verse I'll try and then she'll come. 

"We'll wander in the moonlight fair, 

The stars shall witness from above, 
"While in thine ear I breathe my prayer. 

And lisp my vows, and plead my love, 
To win the answer back from thee, 
Thy love, more dear than life to me, 

A noise ! She comes ! A brighter starlight no"W 
Will beam from out her eyes upon the night. 
Ha ! Who is this ? Her father ! Jupiter 
For Hebe ! He doth see me not. I'll hide 
Behind this tree and wmt nntil he' s gone. 

Siiter Dr. John. 

Dr. Jolm. There's no one here. It must have beeif 
a dream. 
' Twas that Greek chorus running in my head. 
I fell asleep repeating it. It still 
Wrought in my brain and did sugg^t the dream.' 
Methought a choir, with flowers all garlanded, 
Of those, who fought at Salamis, did come 
With Sophocles for leader and did sing, 
With harp and' dance, peans of victory. 
Such as I trust 5ur youth will sing ere long," 
The music flo'';Ved so sweetly, I would fain 
Dream ever so, sleeping and "shaking too. 
I think I can recall it. ISTo. 'Tis gone. 
I almost had it. May not that be it ? 

Singing heard at a distance. 

It is some reveller. 'Tis not the voice, 
And all unlike the strange, sweet melody. 
It must have been all dream. Yet it did seem' 
I heard it still after I waked, although 
Into a sweet, soft strain it then did sink. 
Just as, methinks, Apollo, when he' d turn 
From Pallas unto Venus, with his lyre^ 



Scene II. the co:s^spikacy,' 2^ 

Would softlier sing. AVell, well, I'll to my bed, 
And con the chorus o'er once more. Perhaps 
'Twill come again to me in some sweet dream. 

Exit Dr. John. 

Frank. Greek chorus ! Peans of victory ! Soft 
strain \ 
Ha, Ha. Dear good old Plato ! My poor song 
Has waked in his great brain strains grand 
And visions beautiful, as whispers oft, 
in galleries vast and lofty sounding domes, 
Will swell and roll in loud reverberations. 
She's coming now ! 

Enter An'SAfrom the house. 

Dear Anna ! Darling ! Thanks ! 

Anna. Dear, dearest Frank ! 

Frank. Forgive me for the sleep 

I have disturbed and all the pleasant dreams, 
I've put to flight. Not mine, but thine the fault, 
In that you've made me love and long to come 
And linger ever with you, by your side. 

Anna. More welcome is thy coming unto me, 
Than sweetest sleep, or brightest dream could be. 

Frank. As sweet to meet, so bitter 'tis to part. 
Oh ! tell me, when may be the happy time 
When there shall be no parting ; when all mine 
Thou' It be, I thine, each other's evermore. 
Till death shall part us. When shall be that time ? 

Anna. When thou hast triumphed in thy great at-' 
To win our country' s freedom, it shall be. [tempf 

Then I'll be thine, thine only, wholly thine. 
Then too, I' 11 proudly claim thee for mine own. 
My husband, lover and my hero too. 
But until then our country's must thou be. 
She needs thee now and all thy energies. 
'Twere treason to divert a thought from her.' 



30 THE CONSPIEACf. AcT II. 

Wheii sii^ is free^ how proud I'll be of lier, 
And of thee too, her brave deliverer. • 

Frank. How happy too with thee I then shall be, 
My country free and thou mine own, my bride. 

Anna\ But saidst thou not, the club would meet to- 
night, 
And that you must be there, to act with them % 

Franlc. It does this very night. I'm on my way. 
But could not help but stop as I passed by. [man, 

Anna. Ah ! would that Heaven had made me too a 
That I nliglit go with you to share in all 
Your noble thoughts and plans for liberty, 
And our dear country. Gladly would I go. 
To toil arid win or suifer by your side. 

Frank'. Nay, dearest ! ISTot to be a man. We theii 
Had never loved. Thou canst not have such wish. 
Not for what' s best in the wide universe, 
Would I be otherwise than as I am, 
Thus loving thee and thus beloved by thee. 
No not with Michael, the stateliest one 
Of all that walk in Heaven, would! exchange,' 
To take his radiant nature, with his place 
Before the seraphim, and lose thy love 
And mine for thee. 

Anna. True, Frank ! My wish is but, 
To be nearer and dearer unto thee. 
Not less, but more would I be unto thee. 
I more would share thy plans, thy thoughts, thy life,' 
Thy purposes of good, thy noble deeds. 
Thy toils and perils in onr country' s cause. 
Why may liot woman strive and work and live 
Aye, die too for her country ? May the paths 
Of duty and of honor open be 
To man alone ? There'll be no sex in Heaven. 
Why may not we too nobly live our lives, 
And leave bright glorious records here, that we 



SCEISTE III. THE CONSPIEACY. 31 

With you may look back prpudly to tliem ^|iere 1 

I'd e'er be woman, dear ! and be thy love, 

But woman worthy of thy love, I'd be ; 

A heroine for a hero ; by thy side 

In toil and peril, as in love and ease, 

-To walk with thee in every path of life, 

Partner in all thy labors, as thy joys. [thou be. 

Fraiik. Such partner hast thou been. Such shalt 
From thee first came to me these noble thoughts. 
The inspiration was my love for thee, 
And thy love my ambition and reward. 
Woman is ever man' s true help and guide, 
Her heart to him the best interpreter 
Of duty and of honor. Side by side 
In work and love should they e'er walk through life. 
The welfare of her country and the world 
Is unto woman of as deep concern, 
As it is unto man, and 'tis to her. 
E'en as to him a duty and. a right. 
To labor for the general good, — for all 
That tends to elevate our common race, 
And beautify the earth, our common home. 

Anna. How I do love thee for thy generous words !• 

FranTc. Grenerous? ]N"ay, merely just. Ah, selfish 
It is the way, to take to win thy love. [too ; 

But time doth fly. I now must look for Paul. 
I will appeal to him to go with me. 
And join with us in our conspiracy. 
Talk to your father. Shape his mind aright. 
In gentle words breathe noble sentiments ; 
And with sweet smilps scatter great thoughts around, 
That they like coals of fire, dropped in the souls 
Of men, may kindle into high resolves. 
And burst forth into deeds of nobleness. [thine. 

Good night. Sweet thoughts and pleasant dreams be^ 

Anna. They will be such, for they will be of thee. 



32 THE co]^fSPIEACY. Act II. 

• Scene III.— Same night. Before Paul's House. Enter Paul and Frank. 

Paul. Look at tliat star, yon lone one tliere, and 
How infinite the reacli of its pale beam, [think, 

Traveling to us from its bright sphere so far. 
So is it with our life and influence. 
The truth we do, or utter, goeth forth, 
A beani of light and losetli not its way, 
Amidst remotest centuries. 

FranJc. Aye ! even so. 

Paul. The tree bears not its sweet fruit for itself ; 
But 'tis that we may pluck and eat of it. 
And so with golden fruitage of good deeds 
And gentle influence should our lives abound, 
To make the world more hapjDy. 

Frbjiik. ' Tis most true. 

Paul. They the true artists are, who, as their day^ 
Are given them, do mould them into lives 
Of beauty ; and he greatest artist is, 
Who makes his life the one most beautiful. 
To live life rightly is the true high art. 
The highest art, and to aspire in it 
Is better, than to copy Raphaels. 
Greater into a hero or a God 

To mould one' s self, than carve one out of marble. 
E' en Atlios, hewn into his image, yet 
Were poor to that which Alexander was. 
They only truly live, who, with high aims 
And noble deeds do make their lives 
Thus real, earnest, true and beautiful. [ours be. 

Frank. Aye, such should all life be. Such should 
Such may ours be, if we will make them such. 
There is a noble work, the grandest, sir ! 
In which man can engage, than which earth has 
No better, loftier one , before us now. 
It craves the aid, it doth demand the aid 
Pf all good men and brave, and doth require 



Scene III. the conspieacy. '63 

The liigliest attributes of miiid and soul. 
Tell me, dost tliou not love tliy country ? ' sir ! 
Faul. My country ? If I know my heart I do. 
Frajik. I know tliou dost, and therefore do I come, 
Trusting to you. Hast thou not marked, and mourned 
The ruin that doth desolate the land % 
Has not this general cry of misery 
Pierced in thine ears and harrowed up thy soul % 
Dost thou not see that this once happy land, 
By Heaven made so lovely, by man cursed. 
Is prey to outrage, crime and misery ? 
Paul. Alas ! it is too true. 
Frank. Why is it so ? 

Must it thus ever be ? 

Paul. 'Tis clear, that such 

Is not Heaven' s will toward us, for it has given 
Unto our country every element 
Of greatness and of happiness. 

FranJc. It is, that tyranny doth crush the land. 
The King is but a vile and hoary tyrant. 
Is it not so ? 

Paul. Alas ! it is too true. 

Ah ! why does Heaven so lavish power on them. 
The coarse, the vulgar souled, who cannot see 
Its true and noble uses ? 

Frank. Strange is it ? 

Ha, ha — a muddle is it ? muddle all ! 
Yet, sir ! there' s order in the way the stars 
Are set in Heaven, though they seem strown there 
So wildly. Aye ! and music they doth make, 
Could we but hear it, as they there do roll 
In their eternal course. Heaven ? l^o, not Heaven ; 
It is ourselves not Heaven, we have to blame. 
Heaven ever does its part, when men do theks. 
'Tis not that Heaven doth give these tyrants power,— 
Ood never gives a power, but for good ends, — 



34 THE CONSPIEACY. ACT IIV 

But that they impionsly pervert tlieir powers, 

And that we tamely do submit to them 

And slavishly succumb to tyranny. 

Let us arouse and act our parts like men, 

And do our duty ; all will then come right. 

Thus nobly will we win our liberty, 

And make our country great and happy yet. [the King ? 

Paul. What would' st thou do ? Would' st thou resist 

Frmik. Aye, would I so, — resist his tyranny. 
Shall we yield tamely, ever to these wrongs, 
And with base acquiescence sanction them ? 
Heaven forbid ! Submission unto wrong 
Is treason to the right. True loyalty 
A rebel must need be 'gainst tyranny. 
The despot is his country' s bitterest foe, 
And with him the true patriot can hold 
TsTo terms but those of strife and enmity. 
With tongue, and pen, and sword and dagger too, 
'Tis his to battle against tyranny. 
And toil, and plot and fight for liberty. 

Paul. Alas! What can we do ? What force have we 
To battle with the tyrant' s brutal troops ? 

Franli. At least, sir, we can do our best. 
And serve our country with what force we have. 
The right is mightier than armies are. 
Let' s do our duty, and in doing that. 
We will achieve the truest, best success ; 
For duty done is ever victory. 
What though 'tis difficult and perilous ! 
"Were there no mountains we would never climb ; 
And danger as a bride the brave man loves ; 
For there' s in it a beauty and a charm 
To fascinate and win souls of high strain ; 
And of it honor and renown are born, 
From each encounter some fair child of fame. 
Let's d^ our duty, and as you just taught, 



Scene III. the conspieacy. 31 

Live truly in liigli aims and noble deeds, 
And make onr lives tlins great and beautiful. 
Aye ! The life beautiful ! I liave you there. 
The liero and tlie god ! Your own grand words. 
By your own words I liave you. It is well 
In fitting words to utter forth great thoughts, 
But better to express them in great deeds. 
The Paul of old, whose glorious name you bear, 
Both taught the good fight and he fought it too, 
And by his name and its great memories, 
His cross, his crown, and your own noble words, 
I do appeal to you to join with us 
In this great work, to win our liberty, 
And make our dear, beloved country free. 

Paul. For our dear country and for liberty ! 
You need make no appeal to me for them. 
Show me but where the path of duty lies. 
In which to serve them truly, and I'll tread 
In it exultingly, though perils, toils 
And agonies assail at every step. 
And death itself confront me at the end. 
Here is my hand ; I'm with you, sir, in this ; 
For life and death, I'm yours in this just work. 

Fraiik. I'll show you where that path of duty lies. 
A company of students, all your friends, 
Have Joined in secret, sworn conspiracy, 
Vowed to achieve our countrv's liberty. 
We are thy comrades and do love thee, sir ; 
And wish to have you with us at our head, 
Our chief, to lead us in the ways of glory, 
Wilt thou not join us in our sacred vows ? 

Faul. Aye, any place in the great work I'll take ; 
The first in peril and in sacrifice. 
The lowliest in duty and in toil. 
But tell me of your plans, the special means, 
By which you seek to realize your aims, 



86 THE CONSPIEACY. ACT II. 

And to attain tliese glorions results. 
All that I want is bnt to know the way. 

Frmik. Come with me now. We meet this very night, 
In the old ruined abbey, in the church, 
A wild, lone, haunted place, where none wiH come. 
The peasants tell that spirits rise at night 
And flit amid the trees and through the tombs 
And broken vaults, and wander till the morn. 
There secretly and safely we can meet. 

Paul, Will Angelo, the medium, be there ? 

^ra^zA:. Aye, he is one of us. He'll meet with us. 

Paul. A rare, pure soul ; one of those wondrous men, 
Successors to the seers of olden times. 
Who have appeared in these our later days. 
Of nature delicate yet powerful, 

He seems to have some wondrous power, some strange 
Afiinity for spirits, that they'll come 
To him, and tell of things invisible ; 
And of the secrets of the other world, 
Of Death's pale realm, and that bright happy land, 
The region blest of the life after death, 
1^0 more an undiscovered country, they 
Do make strange revelations. 

Fraifik. He'll be there 

And sit in council with us, and through him 
We will receive celestial utterances. 
And we can ask the spirits of the dead. 
Of the old heroes, who in ages past 
Have fought for liberty, to come to us 
With help and counsel in our glorious work. 
Come with me now. At one o'clock we meet ; 
And see, the broad-faced moon, now at its full, 
And swinging in the vault right opposite 
The sun, is passing the meridian, 
Marking midnight to us, as Phoebus doth 
Mid-day to the antipodes. Come, sir ! 



Scene IV. the conspieacy. 37 

Mark now is waiting with the President. 
Let's haste. We'll help him carry it along ; 
And I'll explain to yon as we do go, 
More fully all onr plans and purposes. 
Faul. I'll go with you and see what I shall see. 

Exeunt. 



Scene IV.—Same Mght. A Park on the edge of a forest. Ihiter Frank, Paul, 
and Mark, with the Skeleton enveloped in a mantle, 

Frcmk. 'Tis heavier than I thought. Let's stop and. 
There. Stand it so. [rest, 

Paul. He' s like a reveller. 

All masked and mantled for a masquerade. 
How far is't to the abbey ? 

Frank. Yonder, there 

Above the forest rises the old tower. 
How spectral-like it stands against the sky ! 

Paul. The night is beautiful. 

Frank. Most beautiful. 

Paul. This infinite beauty of the universe, 
Exhaustless even as eternity. 
Doth precious make our immortality. 

Frank. I wish I was in Egypt. 

Mark. Egypt ? 

Frank. Aye, 

To spend the night upon the pyramid. 

Mark. The pyramid ? 

Frank. Old Cheops' s. 'Tis said, 

The skies are there so clear and bright. 

Mark. Alone ? 

Frank. No, with the stars, the sphinx, and witli 
Those forty centuries, that thence looked down 
Upon the Corsican, and half of them 
On CsBsar too. I'd have a night with them. 



38 THE CO]SrSPTRACY. ACT IL 

Mm% The gliosts of all the Pharaohs wonld rise 
And in their mnmmies glare at yon. 

Franh. All right. 

I'd interview them as to the lost arts, 
And varions points of learned interest ; 
How ' twas they reared so hnge the pyramids ; 
The riddle — and its answer — of the sphinx: ; 
The spot where Moses in the rnshes lay ; 
The, site of Joseph's prison, and that house 
From which he so heroically fled. 

Paul. Those forty centuries ! These Corsican^ 
And CsBsars seem to act as if they deemed 
In very truth the past did watch their deeds. 
Ah ! would they realize, that it will be 
The centuries to come that vdll take note 
And judge of them ; not Csesars then 
Would they aspire to be, but Washingtons ; 
Then War and Csesarism would give place 
To Peace and universal Liberty. 

Frank. If men were wise, how quick would fall 
The Csesars and the Juggernauts. 
Ilist ! Who comes there % Ha ! Is he dogging us % 

Marh. ' Tis Julian. Mark his stealthy gait. 

FranTc. He has a certain look, that answers pat 
To my idea of Judas. 'Tis a most 
Assassin-like expression. You can read 
Daggers and poison in his very scowl. 

Mark. Aye, poison. Had this skeleton a voice, 
It would a tale of crime reveal to us, 
Which this dark Judas would not like to hear, 
If all be true, that' s whispered in the air. 
'Tis thought by many that he poisoned him. 

Frank. His death was sudden, strange, mysterious, 
yind only poison can account for it. 

Paul. But what' s the motive ? Why he poison him % 

Frank. The why? Why'twasambition; rivals, they :5 



Scene IV. the cotispieacy. 80 

Tlmt's wliy enongii. 'Tis what drew angels down 
And peopled hell with devils, and makes kings 
E'en now make devils of themselves, just like 
The old original devil, stirring np 
Their people unto wars, and leading them 
Forth unto slaughter by the myriad. 

Paul. 'Tis said, he's won the favor of the King. 

Frank. By flattery he wins the tyrant' s heart. 

Marie. He's shrewd and cunning. 

Frank. Cunning! Cunning, aye:- 

And yet, withal, he' s shallow as he' s false. 
tVhat monkeyism is to manliness, 
Is cunning unto wisdom. Hollow all. 
He lacks the sure, substantial qualities. 
And I suspect he' s coward too, at heart. 

Paul. Falsehood is ever shallow, hollow, null. 
Truth only is substantial, solid, sure. 
Dishonesty is ever a mistake. 
The lack of honesty is lack of sense, 
Of due perception of the scope of things. 
Of their relations and true harmonies, 
And just adjustment of act unto fact. 
The rascal qitanio tanto is a fool ; 
And knavery is partial idiocy ; 
And hence I pity more than I do blame, 
And in the treatment of the criminal 
I with the prison ever would combine 
Tlie school and hospital. 

Frank. Hist ! Here he comes. 

The clouds sweep o'er the moon. He sees us not. 
Stand close beside this tree as he comes by. 
Keep still. We'll have some fun. A trick for him. 
'Twill try his conscience and his courage too. 

A cloud passes over the moon. Enter JuLiiN not seeing them.- 

Julian. This way they came. I'm on their tracks, 
It takes the rogue to scent out roguery. [Ha, ha>^ 



40 THE CONSPlEACY. ACT II. 

Wrong ? Tut t Mere nanies these riglit and wrong. 

That' s riglit to me that rightly serves my will, 

And that is wrong that thwarts me. That' s my creed ; 

The true one for a resolute, brave soul. 

Of universal being, 'tis the law. 

Each atom to itself all else to draw, 

Itself the centre of the universe. 

The cloud passes from the inoorii 

Ha ! who is here ? 

Frank. Is't to the moon that you are holding forth, 
And ventilating your philosophy. 
This new atomic theory of yours ? 

Paul. Your doctrine does involve but half the truth; 
And half the truth is falsehood in effect. 
'Tis true, each atom doth the others draw. 
But it in turn to them is also drawn. 
Unto each other they do yield themselves 
In mutual, sweet attraction, whence result 
Beauty and harmony among them all. 
You plough but half the depth in truth' s rich soil. 
Poor fruits you'll reap from such false husbandry. 

Julian." Ho, ho. Saint Paul, is it ? Frank ! Mark ! 
who' s this ? 
So stiff, and still and shrouded like a ghost ? 

Frank. ISTay, sir ! Forbear ! You see he' s in disguise. 
Wisdom pries not in what concerns it not. 

Julian. 'Tis guilt and cowardice that seek disguise, 
And mask themselves and lurk round in the dark. 

Frank. Oh, oh. Is that your view of it % Nay, sir, 
This is an honest face, that need not mask 
Its beauty from the moon. Nor fear nor shame 
€an start a blush in it. Look — is it not 
An open and an honest countenance % 

He, draios the mantle from the Skeleton^ 



Scene IV. the conspikacy. 41 

Julian. Ha, Mercy ! Has the resurrection come ? 

Frank. Aye, from the grave come forth — our old 
friend Charles, 
Who died so sadly ; poisoned, as you know. 
He has come back to hunt his murderer. 
Shake hands with him. 

The Skeleton readies out his hcmd. 

Julian. Away from me ! away ! 

Keep thou thy harpy fingers off from me. 
I'll touch it not. Thou shalt not catch me so, 
To clutch me in thy fierce avenging grasp. 
And drag me down with thee. 

Paul. He' s wild with terror. 

Julian. Griare not at me from out thy hollow eyes, 
As if thou'dst read what' s written in my soul. 
Thou hast no proof nor evidence of it. 

Frank. Ha ! there is proof of it, at least in this. 

Mark. His fright has shattered and upset his brain. 

Paul. I thought there was more nerve in him. 

Julian. Is't true, to die is but to sleep, that thus 
The dead may wake and back return to us ? 
I thought that death would hold him in its grasp, 
And never let him cross my path again. 
Leer not, nor grin at me, as if thine hour 
Of triumph now had come. Back to thy grave. 
And keep thee quiet there. Better be there. 
In Heaven, than here, in this vUe, wretched earth. 

Paul. What dost thou mean? Thy words are 
strange and wild. 
'Tis but the skeleton of our old friend. 

Julian. His skeleton ! 'Tis so. Yet he was there. 

Frank. Art thou of these poor lifeless bones afraid ? 

Julian. It was his face. From out those sockets 
His eyes, as when I saw him last in life. [looked. 

Then with his hand he seemed to grasp at me. 
As if to seize and drag me down with him. 



43 THE COlSrSPIEAOY. ACT II. 

'Twas an illusion — nought but these poor bones. 
Our senses, cheated, lie in turn to us, 
And show us as without what' s but within, 
The mere reflection of our inner selves ; 
Our fears, the s^DOoks and devils that we see. 
What do you mean thus to waylay me here, 
And to confront me with it in the night ? 

Fraiik. Waylay thee ! Nay, we are not robbers, sir! 
Confront thee with him? 'Tis but our dear friend. 
Is't thus, that thy old comrade thou dost greet? 
Art thou afraid of his poor bones % Tut, sir ! 
'Tis but the counterpart of your own self. 
We're all but skeletons with skin o'er them. 
That like this mantle will one day drop off, 
And nought be left of us but bones, mere bones. 
You might as fitly tremble when you look 
Into your glass. Look rightly there, you'll see 
This same odd compilation of q[ueer bones. 
Wrapped in its cloak of flesh, this texture strange 
Of earthy, watery, gassy elements, 
And with this self -same grin you'll mock yourself. 
Tut, sir ! You're frightened merely at yourself. 
But come, boys ! we must haste. Let us march on. 

The/y a/rrange the mantle over the SJceleton, and speah aside. 

What think you, sirs, of this % 

Mark. It is most strange. 

Paul. What leaks out indicates what is within. 

Frank. Why should that name so startle him ? 

Paul. Guilt, its own spectre, ever haunts itself. 

Frank. No proof of it ! Of what ? What was that it % 
What is it that is written in his soul ? 
But there is evidence and proof of it. 
The sudden death, the poison, rivals too. 
And this most tell-tale, guilt-betraying fright, [grasp ! 

Paul. He thouaiit that death would hold him in its 



BcEWli IV. THE CONSPIIIACY. 43 

Frailly. Aye, so. Ho tliouglit of it. Tliougiit firstj 
act next. 
That tliouglit was doubtless parent to the act ; 
As child to parent is act unto thought. 
We'll follow up this clue. Blood will leave stains 
That even centuries cannot efface. 
Our murdered friend pleads to us for revenge. 

Paul. See him ! How rapt he is ! He writhes in 
thought. 
Heaven keep my heart pure and my conscience cleani 
r d not have such a secret on my mind, 
Not for Grolconda. Oh ! I pity him. 
Upon v/hose soul there is the stain of blood. . 
Men' s actions do react upon themselves. 
Foul blows recoil upon the arm that strikes, 
And more do hurt the hitter than the hit. 
Murder with its own weapon stabs itself, 
And its own poisons its own vitals gnaw. [anoiii 

Frank. Come, boys! let's go. There will be rain 
The elements are fixing for a spree. 
I never hear that whistle in the wind. 
That low, peculiar melancholy moan. 
But that I know a storm is on the wing. 
Good night to you. 

Paul. Gfood night, sir ! 

Marie. Sir ! good night. 

Exeunt Paul. Frank and, Mark tcith Skeleton: 

Julian. It was so sudden. From its hollow eyes, 
He seemed to look in vengeance out at me, 
And with his hand to reach and grasp at me. 
Then reeled my brain. I know not what I spake. 
Curse them. They laugh and jeer at me. 
I'll echo back their laughter at them yet. 
But what means this ? There is some mystery here. 
There' s something up, when skeletons do walk. 
Mystery' s the cloak, that coward mischief wears 



44 THE COITSPIRAC'Y. ACT 11; 

To do its dark work in. I'll Me with tMs 

Unto tlie King and set the spies on tliem. 

'Twill be a new and double treachery ; 

But doubly 'twill secure my hold on him. 

He, who connives at and accepts a crime, 

As guilty is as he who does the deed. 

The briber doth as truly sell himself, 

His honor, manhood and true dignity. 

As he who seeks and takes the filthy fee. 

In buying me, to serve his tyranny, 

The King, in turn commits himself to me, 

To wink at my iniquities and serve 

My aims both of ambition and revenge. 

There' s strife and trouble brewing in the state. 

But 'tis the storm that shows the seamanship. 

And in these rough wild times, the bold and shrewdi 

Win their best |)rizes. I will venture it 

That in the general pillage and turmoil, 

I will secure my full share of the spoil. 

Miit: 



rSCENB v. — Sa/me Mght. A large, Gothic, Church, partly in ruins, dimly lighted in 

front, the [rear heyond in darhiiess. The Oluh asseiribled. The Skeleton in the 

chan,r. Present : Paul, Frank, Angblo, Mark, Ernest and oth&r Students. 

Franli. Brothers ! the hour' s at hand, the wished 
Such as Columbia saw at Bunker Hill, [for hour, 

And Greece beheld of old at Marathon, 
When for our country we may draw our swords 
And fearless strike for her and liberty. 
Our prayer is answered. The glad hour is near. 
Soon from its scabbard every blade must leap, 
And ne'er return till victory replace 
It back, with dints of glory all emblazed. 
Then comrades ! let us seize the golden chance 
"With hearts exulting and a gallant blow 



SCEISTE V. THE CONSPIEACY. 45 

Strike for our country and sweet liberty. 

Let us now solemnly renew our vows, 

That in tlie coming crisis we will prove, 

In all our duty to tlie fatherland, 

Most firm and faithful. With uplifted hands, 

Let us most solemnly swear this to Heaven. 

All. We swear it. We swear it. We swear. 

Paul. Let' s sing, ere we do part ; some good old 

Frmik. What shall it be % [hymn. 

Marh. The Marsellaise ; 

The strain most eloquent of earth and time. 

Ernest. Nay, " Scots wlia liae" let's sing, the brave 
That rang at Bannockburn. [old score, 

Paul. Old Hundred ! Luther' s grand old air let' s 

Several noices. Old Hundred ! Old Hundred ! [sing. 

Frank. Old Hundred let it be. All Join in it.' 

Paul. Sing ye, as David and as Luther did. 

Frank. And as they would, if they were with us now. 

They sing the dbxology to the, tune of Old, Hundred: 

Mark. Now for the spirits — 'Tis the hour for them. 

Frank. Ere we do part we'll sit awhile to learn, 
What revelations from the spirit world 
Will be imparted to us. Our good friend. 
Through whom these mystic voices speak to us,- 
Is delicate of structure and his frame 
So sensitive and finely strung, it yields 
To every airy influence and thrills 
Accordantly, if but a sjpirit comes 
And waves his wing, or breathes a whisper near. 
And as the future to the spirit' s ken 
Is as the present visible and clear, 
We may some intimation haply get 
Of what the future has in store for us. 
In these dark times, or else we'll hear some word 
Of heavenly counsel, that may better teach 
Us how to serve our country. All take seats. 



■46 THE CONSPIEACY. AcT lis 

Enter a Seniry. 

Sentry. A storm is gatliering. Haste ye ! Haste ! 
The roaring of the forest, where it comes, 
Is as when ocean lifts its voice in wrath. 
'Twill soon be here. 'Twill be a fearful night. 

Frank. If there' s to be a tempest, it is like 
The spirits will be out in fuller force. 
' Tis said they love the wild winds and the storm, 
And joy to mingle with the elements, 
When they in mad career sweep o' er the earth. 

Angela. Around the table we will all take seats. 

Tltey seat tUemselves around the table. 

Paul. These spirit revelations of our day 
Do make the old-time faiths seem probable 
That taught of airy shapes and forms of light. 
The fair divinities of air and sea, 
And nymphs that haunted mountain, grove and stream^ 

Angela. Upon the table all around Join hands. 

They place their hands one on the other aroimd the table. 

Paul. Doubtless there is a world within this worlds 
A realm unseen, amidst this visible one. 
Of essence all too subtile for the grasp 
Of our coarse senses. Its bright habitants, 
Etherial beings, disembodied souls, 
In aiiy vestures hovering, textures wove 
Of azure beams and tints and gleams of heaven. 
Are all pure spirit. They have wings and limbs 
Like thought, agile to pass from star to star. 
When they go out in space, on errands bent 
Of love or duty, or when oif they range 
The illimitable regions, to explore 
jN'ew realms, unseen before, of worlds and wonders^ 
Oft in excursions out they go, far off 
Into the deep, — amidst the Stardust fields. 
Or where, beyond in the abyss, light droops 
Its wearied wino: amid the vast extent, 



Scene Y. the conspieacy. 47 

Lost in the trackless, shoreless infinite, 

To make discoveries, of what God there. 

In the drear void, has reared of beautiful. 

And what of life He' s breathed to dwell in it, 

And make it the abode of love and joy. 

'Tis their delight, thus to go forth and roam 

Amidst His worlds, to study out His laws. 

And solve the mysteries of His Providence. 

For 'tis the business of the spirit life. 

In which with sweet employ they fill the years 

Of the eternal ages, thus to search 

His works, and find out all His ways, and more 

And more to know, the more they learn of Him, 

That all His ways are good, and all His works 

But Infinite Love wrought out by Infinite Power. 

Mark. Hark ! Hush ! What sound is that ? 

Ernest. It was a cry. 

Paul. Out in the forest ! 

Marie. Ko, ' Twas in the tower. 

Ernest. To me it seemed as if ' twere from beneath. 

Erank. Aye, from the vaults — the monks are buried 
That yonder is the statue of a knight, [there. 

Who fought in Palestine, and then turned monk. 
His tomb is there beneath the monument. 
Next to him lies an old inquisitor, 
"Who burned a hecatomb of heretics ; 
And then a saint of such dread sanctity. 
That from his frown the fiends would bafiled flee. 

Ernest. The peasants say, that strange unearthly 
Do linger round these ruins in the night ; [sounds 

That spirits in the breeze do sigh and moan. 
And often shrieks are heard upon the winds, 
And yells and howlings most unnatural. 

Mark. Ha ! There' s a sound. 

Frank. It is a rap. 

Ernest. There, there. IN'ow hear them, how distinct ! 



48 THE CONSPIRACY. ACT II. 

Angelo. Some spirit comes. 

Ernest. I trust it is a good one. 

An evil spirit in this fearful place, 
And at this hour might do us injury. 

Frank. Now hear it rap. It rattles quite a tune ; 
A trill of spirit-land. It soon will speak. 

Angelo. Is there a spirit here would speak to us ? 

Frank. Three raps it makes, answer affirmative. 
Lo ! see ! the table moves ! It rises up. 

The, table rises and rnoves about in the air. 

Fhrnest. This is most strange ! 

Mark. Most wonderful ! How can it be ? . 

Paul. By signs and wonders Heaven in ages past 
Was wont to intimate its will to men. 

Frank. ' Tis like the air is full of spirits round, 
That look on us, though we may not on them. 

Paul. It settles back again unto the floor ; 
How gently ! There ! It -upward moves again. 
It seems as if with spirit 'twere instinct, 
Or else that spirits round did lift it up. [world 

Frank. ' Tis thought by some, that this our visible 
Is mere illusion, an ideal show, 
Some action of etherial attributes. 
Of the same essence, as is thought or spirit. 
That soul or spirit the true substance is ; 
More real, than what as matter we guess of, 
As life, not death, is the reality. 
Atoms of force not matter people space, — 
Monads of soul, minims of melody. 
Living and loving agents, — from whose play 
And ceaseless action flow these harmonies. 
These glories visible and those unseen. 
All unimaginably glorious, 
Which constitute our wondrous universe ; 
One infinite, eternal symphony. 

Ernest. The table now rests quiet in its place. 



Scene Y. the conspieacy. 49 

Marie. Look ! there ! See tliere ! The skeleton doth 

FmnJc. Haply ' tis our departed brother. He [move. 
Perchance doth stir these bones, knowing they're his, 
As when in life he walked in them. I'll speak 
To it. Art tlioii our brother' s spirit ? 

Marie. There were three raps, distinct ones. 

Fraiik. It is he. 

I hope he'll answer and converse with us. 

Paul. See Angelo ! His eyes are fixed. He seems 
As in a trance. 

Ernest. What may his motions mean % 

Mark. He acts as he were writing. 

Franh. Haply thus 

The spirit would communicate with us. 
Let' s give him paper, and see what he'll do. 

He places paper Tjefore Angelo, amd, a pencil in Ms hand. Angelo writes, 
and. Frank reads. 

I am your brother' s spirit. It is still 

My privilege to meet with you, and share 

Your hopes and counsels. When high thoughts 

Are whispered to your souls, then know, that I 

Am hovering near to you. I now am here 

To rouse you uj) to noble ]purposes. 

There come with me three mighty souls, that wrought 

Of old for liberty, and who would still 

In spirit aid the cause they loved in life. 

Hark ye unto their words, and make 

Their deeds and lives the pattern of your own. 

Marie. Tell me no more of signs and miracles. 

Paul. Had we the gift of second sight, 
The vision which the earlier poets had. 
And the old seers inspired, who saw the Gods 
And angels walk the earth, we doubtless now 
Would see these spirits in their own bright shapes, 
In their pure, shining essence radiant, 
And with celestial beauty beautiful. 



50 THE COIS'SPIEACY. ACT II. 

Ernest. It sends cold shudders, sMvering througli my 
To know that they are in our very midst, [blood, 

Here by onr sides. 

Franh. They rather seem to be 

Souls of the dead, who've lived upon the earth, 
Than visitants from other starry spheres. 
Hence they the more will sympathize with us, 
And haply influence the occult powers. 
The mighty elemental agencies. 
That animate and move material things. 
To aid us in our glorious enterprise. 

Marie. This gives us blest assurance, that our friends 
Departed hover yet in spirit near 
To us, and that we too may after death 
Still linger in these dear accustomed scenes. 
And mingle though unseen with those we love. 

Paul. Mark Angelo ! His eyes are closed, and look ! 
A strange far light seems breaking o' er his face ; 
A glorified exxDression, as it were ; 
As if a gleam from Heaven did shine o' er it, 
Or as some soul beatified had come. 
Or spirit blest, and waked in him the thoughts 
And raptures of the invisible world. 

Ernest. His aspect is as if inspired and rapt. 

MarTi. Some glorious spirit must have entered him. 

Pranlc. Hush ! He will speak to us. The spirit now 
Struggles in him laboring for utterance. 

Angelo, I sang erewhile to earth of war in heaven ; 
Of Satan vanquished, and with all his hosts 
Rebellious, bright angelic armies once. 
Hurled down, confounded headlong into hell. 
Sublimest theme for celestial song, 
Oft chosen by those other bards, minstrels 
Who shared the matchless deeds, of which they sing, 
Mighty alike with sword or harp. Crowned now 
With the immortal amaranth, apart 



Scene V. the conspieacy. 51 

They sit in silent shades and seats embowered, 

Deep pondering the eternal chronicles, 

And meditating heavenly Iliads. 

Oft held in stillest raptures, Heaven doth hush. 

With all its multitudes, entranced to hear 

Those sweet seraphic voices chanting deeds. 

By sword of angel and archangel wrought. 

Or arm of the Omnipotent. The war 

Is but transferred, to be fought out on earth. 

The same bright armies. Powers of light, who fought 

Those fields in Heaven, with the old ensigns still, 

And armor from celestial armories, 

And decked with Honor' s true insignia. 

The scars of battles fought for God and truth. 

Legions that faithful ever stood, still stand 

In arms embattled 'gainst the Powers of Hell, 

To drive them forth from earth, as erst from Heaven. 

With them are leagued all who love Grod and good, 

The true and wise of earth, the spirits pure. 

The just and generous ones, w^ho are for Peace 

And Liberty, and God' s eternal truth. 

The contest on the earth is supplement 

And counterpart to that renowned in Heaven, 

And deeds are done heroic, that will vie 

With aught wrought by the sword of Michael, 

And be fit themes for loftiest minstrels}^. 

Ernest He sinks exhausted back into his seat. 
The spirit or mysterious energy, 
Whate' er it be, is passing from him now. 

Frank. 'Twas Milton's spirit. He, who sang the 
earth' s 
Sublimest strain. His was the loftiest soul 
Of England' s noblest age. He in his life 
Did ever speak and act for liberty. 

Paul. The song he sang he still can sing in Heaven. 

Noise of wind and storm heard without. 



52 THE COT^SPIEACY. ACT II. 

Ernest Husli ! hear the tempest ! It has reached us 
now. 
How fierce it strikes and dashes 'gainst the walls. 

Frank. The old tower reels, bnt braces up again. 
' Twill stand, as it has stood, a thousand storms. 
See ! lie doth rise. {Angelo rises ) 

Paul. His eyes are fixed. 

As if he gazed at something we see not. 

Franh. He cannot see ; his sense is locked in sleep. 
His spirit to some other gives its place. 

Paul. He ' s all unconscious. How his form dilates, 
As if some mighty soul expanded it ! 
With what a calm and stately majesty. 
He looks, yet sees us not. 

Frank. There' s that in him 

In look and attitude, like what we note. 
In statues that we see of Washington, 
"Who, it is said, was of a lofty mien, 
An awe-compelling presence. He of all, 
Who've lived, the most has done for liberty. 

Paul. Can it be he ? Art thou his spirit % His, 
The mightiest of freedom' s champions ? 
And dost thou, as in life, still sympathize 
With those, who in thy steps would carry on 
The work thou didst begin so gloriously ? 
There, see ! his -lips do stir. He'll speak to us. 
A word from him were as a voice from Heaven. 

Angelo. The loftiest path of glory is where treads 
The patriot fighting for liberty, — 
To make his country happy, free and great. 
Such is the path, in which ' tis yours to tread. 
Heaven marks it out for you ; your country calls, 
Duty commands, and Honor becks you on. 
The spirits of old heroes, who have fought 
For freedom hover wjtli me o'er you now. 
And bid you emulate their noble deeds. 



Scene Y. the conspieacy. 53 

Numbers imuimerable, sliining hosts, ■ 

With banners waving that have waved o'er scenes 

Renowned — in shadowy troops, as erst they marched 

Upon the battle-fiekls of liberty, — 

They come from hill-side old, and storied plain, 

And holy haunted vale, where fallen they 

Have lain sleeping in glory. Be ye true. 

Victory will yet be yours and proud renown. 

The millions of the free will bless your names. 

Armies invisible will fight for you. 

And Heaven send swift legions to your aid. 

Paul. He takes his seat. Can it be so ? Is this 
Illusion, or the trick of vile imposture ? 
Or was 't the soul of Washington, that spake 
In him ? I would believe it was. 'Twould give 
Assurance that our cause is blessed of Heaven, 
And that success will surely follow it. 
Lo ! see ! Is this a vision ? Angels armed ! 

A flash of lightning Ught&ns the church, sluncing frescoes, figures of Angels, &c. 

The heavenly armies now are marching here. 

Frank. ' Tis Michael and his angels in pursuit 
Of the rebellious hosts, that routed fly 
Smote by avenging thunders : Frescoes old, 
The work of mighty masters. I've oft come 
To gaze at, and to study the grand forms. 
Though marred by time and ruin, beauteous still. 
It was the lightning flashing through the church, 
That made them visible. There, ' tis again. 

Lightning and thunder, etc. 

That leading angel seemed to lift his sword 
And strike with it as the flash fell on him. 

Marh. How deep the thunder, as it rolls along ! 

Ernest. The rattling of His chariot through the skies ! 

Frank. The old church trembles to its very base. 
There' s not been such a storm, since that wild night, 
The cross on the cathedral spire fell down. 



54 THE COIN^SPTRACY. ACT II. 

The priests then said it was the devil' s work. 
There, lo ! The glorious vision comes again. 

Lightning and thund&r, &c. 

Paul. Horses and chariots of fire of old 
Did fill the mountains round the man of God. 
The same God liveth with His armies still ; 
And hosts of viewless warriors, with arms 
Of heavenliest temper, proved in ceaseless fights 
With hell' s fierce legions, are encamped around 
On every height, to aid His champions. 
And with sure re-inforcement give them help 
In every righteous cause. {Angelo rises.) 

Marie. Hist ! He will speak again. 
He rises ! There' s a frown upon his brow. 
This is a spirit of a different sort. 

Frank. There is a haughty grandeur in his mien, 
Like to a statued Eom^an. See ! He moves 
His arm, as he would wrap a robe around him, 
And as he trod the seven hilled city still. 
He grasps that dagger, as he knew its use. 

Angelo. 'Tis right to fight a tyrant any way. 
With sword or dagger, or in peace or war, 
In open strife, or dark conspiracy. 
The tyrant and usurper have no rights. 
They trample upon every law and right. 
With them there' s none, for them there should be none. 
There was a dagger once, that freed the world 
From an usurper ; the earth' s grandest one ; 
The foremost man of all the world, my friend 
And lover ; but he wronged my country and 
I slew him. Take this weapon ; — rightly used. 
It will work out thy country' s liberty. 
Be bold, and use it as a patriot should ; 
As Brutus would, were he alive and this 
His country ; the old Rome that he so loved^ 

He hands a dagger to Paul. 



SCEISTE Y. THE CONSPIEACY. 55 

Frank. It was tlie noble Brutus, he who slew 
Csesar Imperator. 'Twere well had we 
A spirit of his mettle living now. 

Mark. He pointed out the shortest, surest way, 
For our deliverance. Would some strong arm 
Ensheath the dagger in the tyrant' s heart. 
The work at once were done, and we were free. 

Frank:. By handing so the weapon unto Paul, 
He seemed to mark him out as the right one 
To do the work, and strike the glorious blow. 
See him ! • How on the dagger he doth gaze, 
And then on empty air and all enrapt ! 

Paul. Why did he give this weapon unto me \ 
That I should use it on the King, as he 
Of old did upon Csesar 1 I kiU ! I ? 
I an assassin ! JS'o, oh ! no, not I. 
I'll draw my sword, and wield it in fair fight, 
And in all just and honorable ways 
I'll give my life up to my country. But 
A murderer I may not be. ]N"ot that, 
Heaven ! point me not that way ; but any path 
Of peril or of sacrifice mark out. 
To drain my life out drop by drop for her. 
Or toil 'midst x^ain and utmost agonies, 
And I will tread it gladly, fearlessly. 
But I assassin may not, cannot be. [the steel 

Frnest. No, friends ! Not such our course. Not with 
Of the assassin, but the soldier' s blade. 
Must our great work be wrought. In open war 
We will encounter him, and boldly drag 
The tyrant from his throne. Such is the course 
Doubtless that Heaven intends us to pursue. 

Paul. Then wherefore dost it send to us such signs, 
Such dread and solemn messages ? Why is't 
These tafbles move, and the dumb elements, 
With eloquent action, thus appeal to us. 



56 THE CONSPIEACY, ACT II. 

And spirits of tlie dead, who in their graves, 
Have slept for centuries, thus issue fortli 
And intimate to us these fearful deeds ? 
Is it thy meaning ? Heaven ! 

Lightning and tliunder, etc. 

Is that thy answer ? 

Marie. In the old days of signs and prodigies, 
Thunder was deemed to be Heaven' s voice to earth. 

Frank. A peal like that would have been held 
To have some special meaning and significance. 

Ernest. There was in it a tone and emphasis. 
As if some mighty angel shouted it. 

Frank. The powers of the air are all in arms, 
With Heaven' s heaviest artillery, 
And every one with lightnings in his grasp. 
A fiercer tempest never shook the hills. 
'Twill test our bravery to encounter it. 

' A aional heard. 

Mark. It is the signal. 

Frank. There is danger near. 

The sentry gives the alarm. We must away. 

Enter the Sentinel. 

Sentinel. Away ! Quick, for your lives ! We are be- 
A troop of soldiers now are marching here, [trayed ! 

Mark. I see in this the serpent traitor' s trail : 
Sir Julian we must thank and pay for this. 

Frank. Out with the lights. Take up the skeleton, 
And follow me. I know a secret way ; 
A subterranean passage from the vaults. 
And out into the forest neath the walls. 
Thence we'll escape. The tempest is our friend. 
Heaven for our safety thus doth interpose. 
Amidst its thunders and wUd roaring winds 
Our steps will be unheard, and its thick veil 
Will cover us and hide our swift retreat. 

Eaevrnt otnnea. 



SCEI^E .1 THE COJSrSPIIiACY. 57 

ACT III. 

Scene I. — In the City. Enter Paul alone, with the dagger in his hand. 

Paul. What is it makes me keep this dagger so ? 
I cannot put it down. It sticks to me. 
And the old Roman' s words ring in my ears, 
And startle fearful echoes in my soul, 
That urge me on to do this fearful deed, 
Aye, more, my country calls and pleads to me. 
IJow blessed it would be, were he to die ! 
Then gentle Peace would reign, where now this fiend 
Of blood doth ravage. Ho ! thou kingly Death ! 
Thou, who art cursed so oft by gentlest souls. 
For laying low the lovely and the good. 
Thou now could' st win for thee unnumbered thanks 
From all the hearts of this wide realm, if thou 
Would' st on this tyrant do thy blessed work. 
Would that the spirit of old Eome walked still. 
The noblest citizen of all should rise 
And arm himself and slay him, and there' s not 
An honest heart in all the world, but would 
Exult in it, and bless the righteous blow. 
BhaH I then kill him ? Shall I strike that blow ? . 
Jt were to do my country a great good. 
It were to take one vile, pernicious life, 
And by it save a thousand nobler ones, 
Aye ! shall I kill him ? I ! oh ! no. I kill, 
Whose dreams have ever been of light, and love 
And beauty 1 Shall I stain my soul with blood I 
Away from me, thou hideous thought ! Away, 
Thou vile and treacherous instrument ! Thou art 
For cowards and for murderers to use. 

He throws fhe dagger from him. Enter Mark, Ernest, and Angelo, with Student^ 
and Citizens armed. 

Mark. The people rise in insurrection. Hear 
The cannon' s roar ! The city' s in revolt. 



58 THE COjSrSPIRACY. AcT III. 

And foremost in the tumnlt, slionting marcli 

The students, singmg hymns to liberty. 

Come, Paul ! join with us, if you freedom love. 

Exeunt all but Paul. 

Paul. How little is our life in our owm hands 
To shape it as w^e wish. A drama 'tis. 
Writ by another, we the players merely. 
My heart' s fond aspiration e' er has been. 
To live a life pure, beautiful like Christ's, 
Devoted to some high and lofty aim, 
Some mission of bright love and gentle Peace. 
But destiny doth will it otherwise. 
And hence the path, that nearest it, I'll take, 
The path trodden by Washington. 
I'll fight for freedom ; for my country I 
Will toil, that I may give her liberty. 
Yet rather were not my true course the one 
That Brutus chose ? 'Twere more effectual, sure, 
And rightly viewed, perchance as glorious. 

Enter Frank nn^l Anna. 

Frank. Come, Paul ! come with us ! Gird your 
The city has revolted from the King. [armor on ! 

He' s thrown our good old Master, Dr. John, 
Into the castle dungeon, heaped with chains. 
Thence to the scaffold to be dragged and hung. 
This outrage stirs the people to revolt. 
I^ow is the time to drag the tyrant down. [crime ? 

Paxil. Alas ! our dear old teacher ! What' s his 
Anna. The crime of which the wolves accuse the 
lambs ; 
Which fiends against the white robed seraphs charge, 
And blackest guilt 'gainst heavenliest innocence. 
Goodness is ever an offense to sin. 
And wickedness may truly see in it 
Its stern and unrelenting enemy. 
This is my father' s sole yet fatal crime. 



SCEJSTE I. THE COJS^SPIEACY. 59 

Paul. UxDon the scaffold to be hung \ 
Frank. ^J^i sir ! 

At sunrise, on the castle's highest tower. 
Paul. Can naught be done for him % 
Frank. Aye, we can die 

For him. We'll storm the castle ere that hour, 
And o'er our bodies, if no other way. 
Slaughtered in heaps, and piled against the walls, 
Climb to the rescue up the battlements. 
Hear you those bells % Mark you these cries around ! 
It is the city rising in revolt. 

Anna. The people roused, and arming for the fight ; 
And with them, at their head, the students march. 

Frank. Thou would' st have shouted to have seen the 
The brave hearts of the city, bare their heads [crowd, 
And all together lift their hands to Heaven, 
And swear they would be free. It was a sight, 
To make old earth laugh in its rocky ribs. 
Then at the name of Liberty, their shouts [cries 

Went up to Heaven, and forth they marched, with 
And hymns of triumj)h, through the exultant streets. 
Anna. And foremost, at their head, the students 
marched. 
Thy gallant comrades, they with whom so oft 
Lessons of glory thou hast learned, and pored 
O'er deeds for freedom wrought by heroes old. 
Paul. The King ! Relents he not % 
Frank. As wolves do, and hyenas. lie 
Is leaguing with the neighboring tyrants round. 
The frightened despots from all sides 
Do rush to trample out the holy fire 
Of Liberty. 

Enter a Citizen. 

Citizen. Alas ! Alas ! Ill news 

I bring. The citizens have fled. A troop 
Of students fighting, who refused to fiy, 



60 THE COlSrSPIEACY. ACT IIIj 

With Angelo, your comrade, at their head, 
Were taken prisoners. The King, enraged. 
With fearful blasphemies, swears they shall die. 

Anna. Can you stand calmly, cold, and hear all this \ 

Frank. A leader now we need. Wilt thou refuse 
To be our captain, and to lead us in 
The ways of glory % 

Paul. Cold ! calmly ! Oh, no ! 

Could I, by laying down my life for her. 
Save my poor country, gladly would I die. [s^y. 

FranJc. Die ! no. 'Tis live and fight that you should 
To live for her, to strive and fight for her, 
Is what your country now doth ask of you. 
'Tis action bold and prompt, that she doth need^ 
What makes the hero is the brave, high life. 
Oh ! it is to be great, to ever be 
Eeady and armed for action, when Heaven sends , 
Its opportunities for noble deeds. 
Will you not come ? It is Fame' s harvest time, 
Laurels may now be reaped at every stroke. 

Anna. What wouldst thou have us do ? Must -We 
e'er yield 
In soulless, tame submission to these wrongs, 
These huge, accumulated, crushing wrongs, 
That brutal tyranny doth heap on us. 
May never sweety sweet liberty be ours ? 
And wilt thou bid us rear our children slaves 1 

Pa2^?. I bid thee ? l!^o, not so. 'Twere treachery 
To counsel peace with tyranny. A slave 
Is he, who can rest quiet in a land 
Trampled by an oppressor. I!^ever I 
Will bid the sons of freedom pause^ 
In their march onward, while of earth a foot 
Is trodden by a despot, ISTo ! while floats 
A rag of the black flag of Slavery, 
Let never Liberty eiisheathe her sword, 



Scene I. the co:^spieacy; 61 

But ever be sleepless and armed for battle. 
Doubt me not ! I'm all thine and Liberty's. 

Frank. There spake our noble brother. Arm thyself, 
Thou art our captain. Lead us where thou wilt, 
We'll falter not, though death bestride the path. 

Enter a Citizen. 

Citizen. Good news ! Good news ! the citizens have" 
With barricades they hold the troops at bay, [rallied.- 
And bid defiance to them. 

Frank. Huzza ! huzza ! 

Let' s haste to them ! Unto the barricades ! 
There take our stand for victory or death. 
Come, Paul ? Wilt thou not go with us ? 

Paul. Would that I could. Heaven ! May I not ?' 
]^I"ot yet. Go ye unto the barricades, 
Withstand the tyrant' s troops until the morn. 
Before the dawning I will come to you. 
'Till then there's work for me elsewhere to do ; 
By which haply to serve our country well ; 
A duty that Heaven doth impose on me ; 
A path that I must seek and tread alone. 
Go, now. I'll follow soon. Before the morn 
I'll join you at the barricades, and march 
With you to storm the Castle at your head. 

Frank- So be it, then. We'll to the barricades. 
And hold them with our lives until you come. 

Exeunt all iut Paul. 

Paul. It is the way — the way. The King should die.- 
My comrades plead to me to save their lives. 
My country calls, Justice demands the blow. 
His death alone will serve. While he doth live. 
There is no hope of peace ; nothing but blood 
And tyranny and riot through the realm. 
But were he dead,- sweet Peace would smile again,' 
And hope, and calm security and Joy, 



62 THE CO]N^SPIEAOY. ACT III. 

Like sudden sunsliine lighten np the land. 

Shall I then kill him ? That' s the point, my soul ! 

To stain with blood thy purity, and all 

Thy dreams of beauty to dispel, by that 

Vision of horror, which once seen, will haunt 

Thee ever ! That' s the question, oh, my soul, 

That Heaven puts to thee ; and thou must answer it. 

Heaven ! meanest thou that I should do this deed ? 

Why else dost thou suggest these thoughts, and make 

That which has ever been so horrible 

And criminal now seem a solemn duty ! 

I would, oh, dagger ! thou wert animate, 

And could' st thine office execute thyself. 

Heaven sent thee unto me. I'll take thee back. 

He talces up the dagger. 

Perhaps He'll speak again, and make more clear 

His purpose unto me. There is no tool, 

But in His way he makes to do His work. 

I'll first go to the palace, to the King, 

And with the gentle Princess, who I know 

Will Join with me, I'll strive and plead with him. 

If that avail not, then — such other way. 

As Heaven shall in its justice point me to. 

Exit. 



Scene n.—Li the Palace. Enter the Prince and Pauline. 

Pauline. How many of the students have been taken ? 

Prince. A score of them ; all brave and gallant youth. 
The King declares he'll hang them every one. 

Pauline. Alas ! and can there nought be done for 
Can there be found no inlet to his soul, [them ? 

l^o sjDot that we may touch of human mould ? 
Take me to him. I'll plead and beg for them. 
Perhaps sweet pity's fountain, in some vein. 
Deep in his stony nature, hidden sleeps ; 



Scene II. the coKSPiExiCY. 63 

If we can pierce the rock, it will gusli forth. 

Prince. 'Twill need some power like that of Moses' 
To smite the rock in him eifectually. [rod, 

But what can will be done. The Princess now, 
And Paul with her, is pleading for their lives. 

Pauline. Heaven help them plead and touch his heart. 

Prince. Amen. 

There comes his tool and flatterer. Let' s go. 

Exeunt and enter Julian 

Julian. The Princess interceding with the King 
For mercy to these rebels ! and with her 
Her saintly lover ! It is strange, most strange. 
That flower so sweet should spring from rock so rude ; 
So lovely she, and he so coarse and vile. 
ISTot beauty, no, nor intellectual gifts, 
Nor love, nor prayer, will stir his brutal soul. 
Besides, I'll ply him with the drink he loves, 
That he relent not, till they're out the way. 
And then I'll plot to send Paul after them. 
Then we must quell this mob and conquer peace. 
Or — purchase it. Gold's weightier than lead, 
And straighter flies unto its mark, and hits 
Surer and more effectually. And then. 
When all this is secured — Here is the point — 
Then I, who by my afts and flatteries 
Bo rule the King, through him will rule the realm. 
And then — Aye, then — in time, the Princess — Ha, 
They come. 

Enter the King, Princess, Paul, the Prince, Pauline, Officers and others. 

Princess. Wilt thou not spare them for my sake ? 

King. No, ask me not. I've sworn that they shall 
die. 

Princess. Father! my birthday on the morrow comes; 
A princely gift thou then hast promised me. 
Grant me their lives. I'll prize the present more, 
Than if you' d heap before me gems and gold — 



64 THE CONSPIEACY. ACT III. 

All rarest pearls, rubies and diamonds bright. 

The spoil of Orient treasuries, and all 

That e'er were gathered in earth's hollow halls, 

Grottoes and caverns vast, where Genii dwelt 

In the primeval ages, and with them 

Illumed their stately domes and decked their thrones, 

Or if the wealth of California' s streams. 

And the far isles of the Pacific seas, 

You' d give to me the dowry of thy love. [lips. 

Julian. Some seraph breathes its music through her 
Ah ! Beauty' s brightest jewels are the tears, 
That she in pity doth for others shed. 
Tears are the drops to wear the rock away. 
All puissant is Beaut^^^ with her tears ; 
E'en Justice must succumb to her sweet power. 

King. Not all that wealth, were it thrice ten times 
And piled here a ransom at my feet, [told, 

"Would buy their lives, or save them from my wrath. 

Paul. May't please you, sire ! Grant me to speak ^, 
word. 
'Tis good to have power, glorious. Godlike power, 
That we may use it like God, for good ends. 
' Tis glorious for the imperial sun 
To sweep through space upon its shinmg way, 
• With its bright train of glad attending worlds ; 
And oh ! 'tis good for earth that the grand orb 
Doth sway her course, and in its blessed path, 
Amidst the starry fields, lead her careering ; 
For eyer with its. beams come light, and life 
And beauty to our else poor dreary world ; 
And all the myriad, golden rays, it sends. 
Are busy ministers of good to us. 
Angels of loving, sweet beneficence. 
And so should they be, to whom power is given, 
Mighty as is the orb, but with that might 
Tempered by love and mercy, e' en as God, 



SCEJfE II. THE CONSPIRACY. 63 

Who gives that power, holds His omnipotence 
Subservient to His goodness and His love. 

Julian. Hist! hist! He's preaching to the Kingj 
He tries to come the high sublime o' er him, 
The style Miltonic and Isaiahic. Hush ! 

King. Ha, ha. How sir 1 What more hast thou to say^ 

Paul. Forgiveness is the noble soul's revenge, 
The sweet redress the generous spirit craves. 
It is the justice that the just exactj 
E'en as they'd have that justice dealt to them. 
' Tis ever wisdom' s truest policy.. 
'Tis sweeter, as 'tis nobler than revenge ; 
It vanquishes the gu.ilt it punishes, 
Subduing it to love and gratitude'. 
Eevenge doth but repeat the very wrong 
It would redress. Its spirit is of hell. 
Malignant, jealous, blind with hate, it most 
Upon itself doth wreak itself, like hell, 
Its own chief victim. But sweet mercy is 
The highest, heavenliest attribute of Heaven, 
And in the fullness of its own rich peace, 
It doth, with ever overflowing love, 
Blessings return even for injury. 
How blessed — 

Julian. Jehu and Jehoshaphat ! 
He'd made a grand old prophet. 'Twas just so. 
They would rebuke and scold the old Jew Kings. 

King. Ha ! Silence ! Where are kept the prisoners i 

Officer. They wait in chains your majesty's com- 
mands. 

King. Take them at once to execution. Hang 
Them all forthwith. Thou hast thy answer. Hast 
Thou more to say % 

Paul. ISTo more — to say. 

Princess. Oh ! give them time for prayer. You 
would not send 



66 THE COISrSPIEACT. AcT III. 

Them unprepared to tlieir eternal doom. 

Give them a space to fit their souls by prayer 

And ministry of holy men for death. 

Oh ! for my sake, thy daughter' s, grant them this. 

Julian. What sweetness in her voice when Pity 
pleads ! 
Grant me, great Sire ! to join my prayer to her's. 
'Twere well to give them, for repentance, space, 
And — for confession. Haply, from their fears, 
We may extort disclosure of their plans, 
And their accomplices, and all the threads 
Of this most traitorous, base conspiracy. 

King. Till midnight, then, we'll give them. At 
that hour 
Let the great bell be tolled. Then have them strung 
Around the outer battlements, that there 
Traitors may see the doom tliat waits for them. 
Now for a brave old revel. Give me wine. 
I am athirst. Wine ! wine ! 

Tliey pour out wine to Mm. 

It looks like blood. 
I love to see bright wine, rich, ruby wine. 
The purple blood of the red grape — but more 
The redder, richer gore that traitors pour. 

Pauline. If there is blood in him, it must be black. 

Prince. 'Twere just, if he were by hyenas torn, 
Or trod upon by elephants, and crushed 
Out of the form of the humanity 
He doth disgrace. 

Enter am. Officer. 

King. How now, sir ? Speak ! 

Thy smiling doth bespeak for us good news, 
As a bright dawn doth herald a fair day. 

Officer. Most hapx3y news. The citizens do yield. 
And flee behind the barricades. The troops 
Are pouring in, and hem them round. As swoop 



SCEISTE II. THE CONSPIEACY. 67 

The eagles in their flight upon their prey, 

We' 11 charge on them, and take them prisoners. 

King., {giving Imn a ring.) 
Take this, sii' ! for your tidings. Now haste back, 
Hedge them around that none escape. We'll drain 
Each drop of rebel blood from out the realm. 
To clear a land of reptiles ' tis the way, 
Each viper, soon as found, to crush and slay. 
N^ow for a right brave revelry to-night. 
Pleasure shall speed the moments in their flight. 

Exeunt all hut Paul. 

Paid. Heavenly Justice ! What are thy thunders for, 
That they do roll so vainly through the skies 
And blast him not 1 Insatiate, bloody monster ! 
Right wert thou, Brutus ! Wert thou living now. 
There' d be a deed more noble to be done. 
Even than that brave blow, which gave thee fame. 
There should be in each land some officer. 
Some righteous man, whose office it should be 
To slay these tyrants who, abusing power, 
God' s attribute, do use it thus like devils. 
Where is the dagger ? Let me clutch thee fast. 
I'll rush in, now, and stab him where he stands. 
Yet, ah, is mine that office ? I that man ? 
Ha ! shade of Brutus ! comest thou again 
To urge me on ? Thou smilest, as in scorn. 
That thus irresolute and weak I halt. 
Scared by these scruples, fears and timid doubts. 
Shadows, perchance, unreal as thou art. 

Enter Princess and Pauline. 

Pauline. Alone here? brother! What is't aileth 
There' s pain and anguish written on thy face ! [thee ! 

Paul. Pain ! no dear sister ! ISTo, I have no pain. 
Anguish ? aye, it is anguish, agony. 

Pauline. What dost thou mean ? Anguish and agony, 
And yet no pain ! what may I do for thee ? 



6 8 THE CONSPIKACY. ACT III, 

What is it that thou seest in the air ? 

Paul. Thou wast the noblest Roman of them all, 
And noble was the blow that thou did' st strike, 
Aye, the most notable in history; 
jind would' st thou now thus bid me strike 
Its fellow, if it were not noble too % 

Pauline. How ! Roman ! noble ! fellow ! who is it % 
What is it that thou gazest so upon ? 
There' s naught that I can see, but the bare wall. 
See' st thou some vision in the empty air % 

Paul. Dost thou see nothing \ Then there nothing is. 
It is the brain reacting on the sense. 
As ocean tossed and storm vexed doth roll back 
Their currents up its tributary streams. 
Yet still 'tis there, with that stern Roman air, 
And with its finger it doth point me on. 
Can it be wrong, when so much good will spring 
From it % The fruit doth indicate the tree. 
If good, it must be right. If right and good. 
It should be done. Then it is duty, too. 

Princess. Thou heed'st us not. Thy thoughts are 
wandering, 
And fixed thy gaze. What is it ? Speak to us. 

I^aul. Thy dagger' s in thy smile, and in the look 
Thou givest me . Thou badest me do it, 
And frownest that I halt and falter thus. 
It should be done, but oh ! not I — not I. 

Pauline. Nay, 'tis not in her smiles the daggers are, 
But in her glances, the bright, piercing eye. 
Thou dost misspeak thee in thy compliment. 
Her glances are the darts that pierce all hearts. 

Princess. I have not bidden thee do aught. Dagger ? 
It should be done — duty doth bid. IS'ot thou ! 
What dost thou mean ? What is it should be done ? 
Some fearful thought absorbs thy mind. Speak, sir ! 
'Thy sister and thy Princess bid thee speak. 



BCENE II, THE CONSPIRACY. 69 

Paul. Harmonia, cliilcl of Mars ! aye, it was so, 
From fiercest discord, sweetest harmony. 
Tliy mother was some angel lost on earth. 
Some daughter of the skies, loved by thy sire. 
And hence- hast thou thy peerless attributes. 

Princess. My father — 

Paul. Thine — thy father. Ah, that too- 

Princess. Forgive him. He is old and passionate, 
These evils in the State do trouble him. 
He will relent. A brighter day will come, 
And in the hope of it let us await. 
And from the future borrow happy thoughts 
To cheer the gloomy present. Let us hope. 

Exeunt Princess and Pauline' 

Paul. Is't right ? Have I the right ? Admit he is 
Unfit to live, and for his crimes deserves 
To die, yet can I rightly take his life ? 
It is a question. And yet why is not 
That right in man, which wrought by God, in Him 
"Were good and blessed ? So the aim be pure. 
And the result be good, the deed the same, 
What matters it by whom or how 'tis wrought ? 
It would be a most blessed deed, if God 
Would take this tyrant from the world. Then why 
Not so, if I do it ? or rather. He 
Through me ; I, as the dagger in my hand. 
So I in His, merely the instrument. 
It clearly is His will. Else why these signs, 
This coming of the spirits unto us, 
These intimations of the elements. 
These voices in the soul, that will not hush. 
But in the name of country and of Heaven, 
Do urge, implore, and bid me rise and strike. 
I'll with this question go once more to Heaven, 
And if unto my mind looking to Him, 
Jt still seems right, I'll take it as His will. 



70 THE coisrsPTEAcy. Act IV. 

His working in my soul, and pause no more. 

He Kneels. Enter Julian. 

Julian. Ha ! Paul upon Ms knees ! Praying is lie % 
Or weeping \ I could now dispatch liim up 
Straightway to Heaven. That were to do him good. 
I'd harm him not, if he were out my way. 
No, all success and joy to him — in Heaven. 
But no, ' tis not the place, nor this the time. 
I must not mar my plans by rushing them. 

Ex-it Julian. 

Paul. 'Tis so. 'Tis right. So says the voice within. 
And to each man the voice of his own soul 
Is Grod's own special oracle. 
'Twere cowardice -in me to falter now, 
Scared by this phantom of the mind, this dim 
Idea, this vague notion, we call — wrong. 
While thus my country calls and pleads to me, 
And in my thought, to serve my country, it 
Were nobler on my soul to take the guilt. 
If guilt it be, and bear its penalty, 
Than shrink from fear of it. My country ! thine 
The blessing — mine the guilt and punishment. 



ACT IV. 

Scene i.— Night — A hall in the Palace. Enter Paul a'liA Pauline. 

Pauline. She leaned upon your arm while you did 

Paul. She did. [speak ? 

Pauline. And smiled ? 

Paul. Yes, as a seraph might. 

Pauline. Were you alone with her ? 

Paul. Yes, quite alone. 

Pauline. I do believe she loves you, Paul ! 



Scene I. the conspieacy. 71 

Paul. Loves ! Me ? [you % 

Pauline. Aye, so. "What was it that she answered 

Paul. 'Twasless in words than looks, that she re- 
plied. 
It was her glance, and that sweet smile, that played 
Upon her lips. 

Pauline. Was that all % 

Paul. All. 

Pauline. Oh ! Fie ! 

You should have urged your suit to her, have clasped 
Her hand and bent your knee, and from your heart 
Poured forth the fullness of its love to her 
Until her heart did yield and she did speak 
And answer back to you with love for love. 

Paul. Nay, nay, my sister ! 

Pauline. Yes, yes, my brother ! Never tell me nay. 

Paul. Ypu do forget her rank. A Princess she. 
The daughter of a hundred sceptred kings. 

Pauline. A Princess ! True, but she is woman too. 
Is Royalty, think you, all void of soul ? 
May Princes have no hearts for love and joy % 
Love ! 'Tis the highest honor Kings can win. 
And the best homage we can pay to them. 
Love laughs at titles, and the toys of rank. 
Nature doth rank us as we stand compared, 
In stature, and in quality of soul. 
For to the eye of Heaven, 'tis in the soul 
Is written the true measure of the man. 
Aye, you, my brother ! more do honor her 
By the rich offering of your pure, high love. 
Than she could honor you, were she to place 
The crowns of all her sires upon your brow. 
And, if indeed she love, 'twill be her joy. 
Her highest pride to share with you in all 
Her princely state and powers imperial. 
But I must haste. Good night. May slumbers sweet 



72 THE COIsrSPIEACY. AcT IV. 

And dreams of love be thine. 

Exit Pauline. 

Paul. Heaven guard my sister ! 

Can it be so % It is so. She is right, 
JSTow that I think her words and actions o'er. 
' Tis strange I saw it not before. Her love ! 
Oh ! could I clasp her in my arms, 'twould be 
Of Heaven more, than Heaven itself could be. 
Aye, what could mean those words she spake to me % 
How would I rule the realm, if I were King ; 
What should that mean ? And then — would I assist 
With aid and counsel, when the time should come. 
Ajre, when the time should come. 'Tis so. Aid thee^ 
Sweet Princess % Yes, the treasures of my youth, 
Manhood's proud aspirations and grand aims. 
The energies of the immortal mind. 
This might of love, these passions and high thoughts,- 
All that I am, and all I hope to be. 
All gladl}^ would I give to thee, to spend 
Them in thy service. But, ah, no ; oh, no. 
Dreaming of love with murder in my heart ! 
To love the daughter, and yet slay the sire ! 
Away, ye dreams ! No, not for me is love. 
Or hope, or sweet delights. Stern duty bids ; 
Heaven has commissioned me ; my country calls ;' 
It is my mission, and I must not fail. 

Enter the Pkincess cmd, the Prince. 

Prince. I like not these iierce cries and shouts that 
come 
From out the city. There' s new trouble there. 
I will go forth to learn what it may be. 

Exit the Prince. 

Princess. Why is it thou art thoughtful ? Lo ! look 
Diana there is out, with all her troop, [up ! 

Her starry nymphs, hunting in the fields of Heaven; 
Is it not beautiful % 



Scene I. the cojstspieacy. 73 

Paul. Most beautiful. 

Princess. This loveliness, tliat robes the night, 
Suggests to me a thousand happy thoughts. 
Tell me, of all created things that are, 
"Which most would' st thou delight to be % 

Paul. Of all created things ? 

Princess. Yes, let it be 

Something whose nature we could share with thee. 

Paul. Then thou shalt guess it. Thus I will find out 
What thou would' st wish to be, and that I'll wish. 

Princess. It is a star thou'dst be — a Pleiad there, 
Or one of those twain yonder. Is it not ? 
I'd fain be one of them. Dost thou not think 
The stars are conscious of their lofty life % 

Paul. AjQ, do I so. I would not, could not deem 
Those glancing orbs mere dead and senseless things. 
To me the universe is all alive. 

Instinct with soul, and sense, and thought, and joy ; 
And iN'ature doth delight in all her works, 
Even with a joy infinite as her might. 
And these her wondrous movements thrill her frame, 
As when great thoughts move o'er the soul of man. 
Yet I'd not leave my place here by thy side, 
JN'ot for the brightest of yon golden seats. [wish. 

Princess. Then tell me what it is that thou would' st 

Paul. It is that I could have awhile the power 
To do on earth, what I would love to do. 
For I have thoughts of beauty in my soul. 
That wrought out, would make earth all glorious. 
As if with jasper walls, and gates of pearl. 
And golden pavements buHt, its cities were. 
The elements of glory all are here ; 
Kichest material for the new heaven. 
The marbles waiting lie beneath the hills, 
Yet crop out looking round for architects. 
How easy, if men would, 'twould be, to rear 



74 THE COWSPIEACY. ACT IT* 

Them into palaces. All ! were men wise, 
This world might be all beauty, life all j oy; 
The hills with burnished domes would gleam afar, 
The valleys all would happy valleys be. 
And all the isles be islands of the blest. [tence. 

Princess. I wish thou could' st have such omnipo- 

Entm- the Prince and an Officer of the Palace. 

Prince. The insurrection in the city spreads. 
They seem to march this way. I fear their plan 
Is to attack the palace, and thus aim 
The blow they strike at the most vital part. 

Officer. With fiercer blow we'll meet and parry it i 
Our guns will give them greeting as they come. 

miter 2d Officer. , 

2d Officer. The mob is marching hither, and their cry 
Is "To the Palace"— "Death unto the King." 

Princess. Heaven "help us^ should they overpower 
the troops. 

Officer. Or should the soldiers fraternize' with them, 
And join the work of pillage and of blood. 

Princess. Alas t Is there such danger ? Then indeed 
To Heaven must we look. {To Paul.) You will not 

leave us. 
The people love you. They will harm you not. 
Better than sword and shield of brass or steel, 
If Love, with its bright armor gird us round. 
I choose you as my knight, to watch for me, 
And guard me through the perils of this night. 

Paul. Unto thy safety will I give my life. 

Officer. The shouting seems to cease and die away. 

Princess. Perhaps the tumult now will qniet down, 
And all be well. Keep ye good watch. Good night. 

Exit Frinoess.- 

Prince. Where is the King ? 

Officer. Dead in a drunken sleep^ 



Scene I. the conspiracy. 75 

They brought him senseless from the night's debauch. 
The trump of doom could not awaken him. 
He' s in the royal chamber. There, that' s it. 

Paul. Ha ! Did' st Thou mean to point the way to me ? 

Prince. Hark ! Hear those cries again % Let us go out 
And learn what they do mean. Paul ! you remain ; 
We'll soon return and make report, and then 
Council of war together we will hold. 
The gentle Princess doth rely on you. 

Paul. So. Heaven is working it. 

Prince. Heaven working it ? 

'Tis Hell you mean. It must be thence that comes 
The inspu'ation that impels these fiends. 
Hark, hear them yell ! A legion at the least 
Is busy there at some devil' s work, devised 
For them in hell. Watch you till we return. 
The Princess' room js next unto the King' s. 
Keep you near there. She may require your aid. 
She' s chosen you her knight to watch for her. 
The King' s not like to wake or trouble you. 

Paul. 'Tis very likely that he will sleep well. 

Exeunt all tut Paul, 

It is the time, my soul ! The hour has come, 
Thou must decide. Heaven will no longer wait. 
Strike, and thy country thou wilt save. Fail now. 
Thy country 'tis and Heaven thou failest to serve. 
'Tig clearly Heaven's appointment. 'Tis His hand 
Is leading me, and points me on the way, 
'Twill be for me to do, as Moses did. 
To save his people, when God bidding him, 
He stretched his hand forth against Pharaoh. 
And as thou did' st, oh Brutus ! when for Rome, 
Thine arm was raised to smite earth' s mightiest, 
In killing him 'twill be but one life lost, 
And that a criminal' s, by every crime 
Polluted, and by every law condemned ; 



76 THE CONSPIEACY. ACT IV. 

While by it lives umiiinilbered will be saved, 

Lives whicli may beautiful and liappy be. 

Thus, too, the Princess I can best protect ; 

For were he dead, I could at once go forth 

Unto the people and proclaim his death. 

It would disarm their rage, and turn their hearts 

Again to her in love and loyalty ; 

And all at once through the now mourning land, 

There would be peace and sweet security, 

And the whole realm would shout and sing for joy. 

My dagger, come ! Thou' It yet a relic be. 

Be thou now strong within me, oh, my soul ! 

I'll pause no more, but to the deed at once. 

Exit Paul and enter Julian. 

Julian. What may that mean? He grasped his 
dagger, thus, 
Sternly as if he'd strike with it. I've seen 
Him oft of late buried in reverie ; 
Then he would start — and gaze into the air. 
Then clench his hand and mutter to himself. 
And drop and shake his head, all lost in thought, 
As if he meditated some dread deed, 
Some fearful purpose. I will dog his steps, 
And play the spy on him. When saints do arm, 
Then rogues and devils well may take alarm. 

Mit 



Scene n. — Same Night — A street in the city harricaded — Eenest, Students and 
Citisens a/rmed, some on guard, others sleeping, <&c., <&c. 

Citizen. What cries are these that come upon the 
breeze ? 

Ernest. It is some tumult in the city. But 
That we must stay to man the barricade, 
I would go forth to learn what it may be. 

Citizen. From different points do come the sounds, 



Scene II. the conspieact. 77 

Shouting and roar of gnns, and with the breeze, 
Billows of music swell upon the ear. 

Ernest. 'Tis a new rising of the citizens. 
They've waited for the night to arm themselves ; 
And now they march with shouts and songs, in bands, 
To join the insurrection. 

Citizen. Look there, to the east ! 

How red the day-break lightens up the sky. 

Ernest. Nay. Midnight has not struck. It is the 
Of conflagration. The city is a fire. [glare 

See how those flames curl round yon eastern tower. 
They seem to lick the skies with their forked tongues. 
As if hell from beneath were bursting forth. 
The night doth linger long. Would it were day. 
These fearful scenes will fright the morn away. 

Shouts and singing heard in the distance. 

Citizen. Hark! They are jubilant. They' re marching 
With cries and hymns. [here 

Ernest. How hollow sounds the earth. 

As if it quaked beneath their measured tread. 
There' s thunder in the tramp of armed men, 
When marching on to fight for liberty. 
Lets wake our sleeping comrades, and as they 
Bo come, give them a fitting welcome. Friends ! 
Awake ! Halloo ! Rouse up ! Awake ! Halloo ! 
The citizens in troops of thousands come. 
A myriad swords leap from their sheaths to-night 
To strike for freedom. Wake ! halloo ! halloo ! 

Citizen. It is some solemn death-chant that they 
How grandly rolls the chorus on the air, [sing. 

In the still night. They bring their slain with them. 

Enter Mark, with a troop of students, &e., bearing a dead body. 

MarTc. Comrades ! fall in. the ranks and march with 
The city everywhere doth rise and pour [us ! 

Its eager thousands to our aid. Onward ! 



'7§ THE COITSPIEACY, AdT IV, 

Unto the palace we will marcli, t' avenge 
Our mnrdered friend, and win the liberty 
For which he died. All fall into the ranks! 
Unto the palace ! onward ! on, march, on ! 

Ernest Who is it that has fallen ? Whose remains 
Are these ye bear with yon, with snch display 
Of triumph and of woe ? 

Marie. Alas! 'Tis Frank. 

The brightest spirit of us all has flown. 

Ernest. What, Frank, our noble, genial comrade 
slain ! 
Keen wit, brave heart, true friend and generous soul ! 
Dead is he ? dead ! alas ! How did he fall ? 
Aye, 'Twas the brightest Pleiad that was lost. 

MarTc. His death was worthy of him. At our head 
Upon the barricade, he stood, and back 
Jlepelled the rushing soldiers, and in turn 
Pid chase them fleeing, and with cheers 
Urged the pursuit. Even as he fell, he waved 
His sword above him, shouting "victory." 
His last words, as we raised him, were " I'm free." 
He ,§miled, and 'twas the same bright smile we've seen 
Bo oft, and then his spirit sprang away. 
To join the freed ones in the immortal realms. 

Ernest. I'll join them too with him ere morn and day 
j3hall dawn on me in Heaven, if we this night 
Win not our liberty. Aye, liberty ! 
That is our word^ — ^our battle cry. 
Pnward, march onward ! Liberty or death ! 

Marie. We must be on the march. Let all fall in. 
The tyrant in his stronghold we will seek — 
The wild beast in his lair, and from his den 
Brag out the monster. To the palace, ho ! 
Take up the body. Bear it at our head. 
That is its fitting place, to lead us still 
Until the victory. On to the palace ! 



Scene III. the conspieacy. 79 

We'll sing as we do march. On ! Forward, march t 

They mardh singing. 



Hark ! from the skies, a yoiee that cries, 
There is no nobler death or prize, 
Than his who for his country dies, 
Fighting for liberty. 

Around him gather still the brave ; 
Exulting bear him to his grave ;' 
The flag he loved above him wave. 
The banner of the free. 

Breathe not a sigh, drop not a tear, 
For his the fate to hero dear, 
To be among the bright ones e'er, 
Martyrs of liberty. 

Like his may be our destiny. 
Like him to live, like him to die, 
Like his, the graves where we shall lie> 
And his, our eulogy.- 

Exmni. 



Scene m.—Same Mgh1r—In the, Klng''s Bed CTianiber. The King in his hedj 

Enter Paul. 

Paul. The way is clear ; yet I wonld rather creep 
The vast earth round, than walk this little space 
Unto this deed. Where is the dagger ? 

He draics forth the Dagger, and icith it a manuscript. 

I've writ my reasons here for what I do, 

That should they kill me, as most like they will, 

They'll see I acted in it righteously. 

And chiefly that the Princess thus may know, 

Why I did slay her sii^e, and that she may 

Be more induced by it to rule the realm 

In love, and righteousness, and gentle peace. 

And haply, too, earth's tyrants thus may leartt 

Elsewhere, that justice may awake for them. 

How innoeent thou look' st, dread instrument !■ 



80 THE CONSPIEAGY. ACT lY. 

Blood may be wiped from thee, but will its stain 
E'er leave the soul ? I'll think no more of it, 
But to the work at once. Yet first, I'll kneel 
A moment, the last time, perchance, on earth, 
And ope my heart and all its thoughts to heaven. 

He kneels, then soon starts iip, dropping the manuscript. 

Is it a troop of spirits that I see % 

And that stern shade, there, smiling in their midst ; 

Or an illusion is't ? Bright beings seem 

To hover o'er the King, They beck to me. 

Ye blessed messengers ! Is it to aid 

Me in the bloody work, that ye do come % 

Will ye receive his spirit in its flight % 

I would not harm his soul, but for his crown 

Of earth would give him a celestial one. 

They're gone. Was it illusion ? Am I mad ? 

Yet will I take it as a sign from Heaven, 

He goes to the Bed. 

How still he sleeps ! How pale, and like to death ! 

Here is his heart. 'Tis here I'll strike. Ha, no, 

He breathes not. Still he lies. 'Tis death. He's dead 

Already. God has slain him ; done himself 

His own dread work. Aye, in His justice He 

Has smitten him. Yet no, his breath returns — 

Faintly, as if 'twould die away again ; 

As life in its last struggle strove with Death ; 

And feebly, as if giving up the strife. 

I thought that Heaven had saved me from this deed. 

It still is to be done. He' s almost gone. 

Death, with a little help, will do the work. 

It stops again — perhaps he now is dead, 

And if I wait, I may be saved the deed. 

A Bell Tolls. 

Ha, 'tis the beU ! He bade it toll— their knell- 
It is his, too. It bids me haste to stop 



Scene IV. the conspieacy. 81 

Tliese fearful murders, and these Mdeous crimes; 
I may not wait — ^lie may revive — they'll come, 
And then too late — I now must make it sure. 
So. So. 'Tis the best way. 

He smothers the, King. 

So Nature does. 
To q[uench the life, it merely stops the breath. 
I do but helj) in this. He struggles not — 
And not a gasp. There. So. 'Tis over now. 
He lies as still he slumbered in his sleep. 
He will not wake. Was he not dead before ? 
I know not which has slaia him, Grod or I. 
Well, well, the deed, whosever it may be. 
Is now on record in the eternal books. 
Let heavenly justice, for my share in it. 
But credit me with motives just and pure. 
And with the countless blessings that will flow 
From it, and I'm content. I'm clearer now 
In thought and conscience, that it is all over. 
Hist ! did not some one speak ? I thought I heard — 
Ye spirits ! Is it ye still hovering round \ 
I do believe that ye are near me now. 
And that ye have been with me in this work, 
And will bear witness of it unto Heaven. 

Exit: 



Scene iv.—Same Mffht—Rall before the King's Chamber. Enter Paul. 

Paul. I never heard that Judith was condemned ;' 
Nay, rather every age hath blessed her deed. 
True, 'twas her country's foeman whom she slew ; 
Yet, to my mind, the ruler who proves false, 
And doth oppress his country, or in wars 
Involves her needlessly, more truly is 
That country' s enemy, and guiltier far, 
Than fiercest foreign foe can ever be. 



82 THE COE-SPIEACT. ACT lYi 

JSnter iJie Prince, Julian, Officer and Servants: 

Prince. Awak^ the King ! The citizens attack 
The palace. Haste ! the mob is marching here. 

Exeunt Officer mid Servant into the King''s CJiambe/r. 

Come, comrade ! Rouse thysell There's work to do^ 
That we may save the Princess and the King. 
The hydra-headed monster comes, the molb. 
Oh ! for an arm and club Herculean ! 

Paul. A lyre and hand Orphean better were. 

Voices witMn. Murder ! Treason ! Treason ! 

Julian. What fearful cry is that ? 

Bnte/r S&rvamt. 

tenant. Oh, horrible ! Most horrible ! The King is 

TTie Prince. The King ! [dead ! 

Julian Dead? Killed? 

Ser'Gant. Aye, in his bed he lies, still, cold and pale. 

Julian. Killed ! He has stabbed him then. Quick ! 
call the guard ! 
Here' s the assassin. Search, and ye will find 
The weapon on him, that he killed him with. 
I do accuse him as the murderer. 

Enter cm Offiicer. 

Prince. Did' st thou not hear him ? Silent dost thoii 
stand ? 
He doth accuse thee^ and thou answerest not. 
Can' st thou have dared to do this fearful deed % 
If so, to Heaven, and to thy country's laws, 
Thou' It have to answer it 

Paul. For what I've done 

I'll answer to my country and to Heaven. [still, 

Julian. Search him! Perhaps the dagger's on him 
And with the bloody stains upon it yet. 
He's stolen here alone to do this deed. [King, 

Officer. Nay, there's no wound, no blood upon the 
S"or mark of violence. He's not been stabbed. 



Si3ENE IVo THE CONSPIEACY. 83 

He lies, as if in sleep he'd passed away, 
As Sleep with his pale, silent sister, Death, 
Had but changed places. 'Tis the hand of God. 
Oiir friend is here to watch, at yonr request. 
The Princess, too, did choose him as her knight. 
'Tis clearly God's own Judgment, and in it 
He has been His own executioner. 
Julian. I'll go and see how 'twas he did the deed. 

Exit Juliwn into the Kin,g''s room. 

Prince. Most like, 'twas in some su4den fit he died. 
His spirit, ever stormy, has been thrown 
Into some wUd, tempestuous whirl, in these 
Mad, rough, wild times, and thus has upward flown. 
Heaven, in its purposes, has taken him. 
Forgive me, friend ! 'Twas clearly God's own hand. 

Office7\ More like, he passed away in that deep sleep, 
In which we brought him from his revelry. 
A deadly stupor 'twas,— the sleep of death. 
He's never roused from it=, But hear those sounds. 

S7umfs and firing of g mis heard loUhowt. 

It is no time for lamentation now. 
These cries demand an answer. We must act. 
How would his spirit now have roused itself 
For fight. Alas, old warrior ! thou' It wake 
IJnto the roar of battle never more. 

Prince. Act ! Aye, a mighty .act is opening now. 
'Twill need great acting to perform it well. 
Oh ! for an actor for the leading part ; 
A star, with genius for a general, — 
Heaven' s gift most precious, in its hour of need, 
Unto a country, a good general. 
Come, Paul ! go with us. Canst thou not devise 
Some plan, some path to lead to victory ? [on. 

Paul. Thou leadest still ! Thy hand still points me 
I ^l obey you, sire ! I'll go with you. 



THE COITSPIEACY. ACT IV= \ 



To serve Heaven, and onr country, and tlie Queen. 

I'll hasten to the people. They will hear 

My voice. The King' s death I'll proclaim to them 5 

Then of the gentle Princess I will speak, 

And of her sweet and heavenly qualities. 

And I will point them to the enemy 

Before the walls, and 'gainst them turn their rage, 

That they with us and with the troops will march, 

To drive the invader routed from our soil. 

We'll in the night go forth and seize the heights 

About the foe, and compass him around. 

Then, at the dawning, we'll rush down on him, 

And strike him as with lightning out of Heaven. 

Prince. There wakes the hero. You're our leader. 
The people love, and they will follow you. [sir ! 

I do commission you our general. 
You've struck the path of glory the first stride. 
Fame' s wreathing now a chaplet for your brow. 
Pegasus has come down, and kneels to you ; 
You've but to mount, to be among the stars. 

Exeunt all, and then re-enter Julian, with PauVs manuscript. 

Julian. No wound, nor sign of violence. Yet — yet 
I'm not content. There's some deep mystery here. 
That dagger, and his rapt and intent mood, 
In which he rushed away — then here alone — 
And the King dead — dead in his bed. It is 
A mystery. What' s this I found ? 

He opens and reads the manuscripit. 

His writing ! 
I found it on the floor by the King's bed. 
That shows that he was there. What does it say % 
^' The King a tyrant !" Ha ! "The Princess Queen !'' 
f ' Gfentle and loving !" Hell ! In love with him ; — 
That's what he means,— and she the Queen, and he 



Scene IV. the oonspieacy. 8^ 

The favorite. I'd stab Mm were lie here. 

Curse hmi ! what more is it he says. Aye, aye, 

It is an argument to justify 

The killing of the King. The devil saint ! 

'Tis said, the meekest spirits, when they fell, 

Did make the fiercest devils. So, it seems 

Crime has its principles and theories. 

Satan, no doubt, naakes out himself a most 

Abused and persecuted seraph. Aye, 

'Tis clear that he did meditate the deed. 

It shows most plainly, 'tis proof positive, 

He had it in his mind to kill the King, 

And in some way, by poison or foul means. 

He' s wrought his purpose, and has murdered him | 

And all the same as murdered me ; my hopes 

All blighted, dead in the King' s death, while he 

Will love and triumph. In the Queen's love 

What height is there to which he may not climb ? 

WhUe I beneath must crawl and gaze at him. 

Yet, ha, I'll have him yet. I will rush forth 

And straight proclaim him as the murderer ; 

She cannot love her father' s murderer ; 

She cannot place hers in the guilty hand, 

All red and reeking with her father's blood. 

And I'll so demonstrate his guilt to her. 

That hate and horror from her heart will drive 

A love so guilty and unnatural. 

Yet, no, not yet. He'll have confederates. 

The mob do love him, and me they do hate. 

If they should find me here, they'll wreak their wratl^ 

And vengeance upon me. I must away. 

And hide until this riot has been quelled 

And order is restored ; then I will come 

And in this saintly lover of the Queen 

I'll prove to her her father's murderer. 

JSMl 



86 THE CONSPIBACY. ACT V. 



ACT V. 

^CENE 1.— Morning — Street in front of theliouse of Da. John. Anna at the window. 

Anna. 'Tis day — the swift, relentless sun lias come, 
And given the signal for my father's death. 
Oh ! why. is not Frank here ? He promised me 
To come, or send me word before the dawn. 
What if he' s fallen in this fearful night ! 
My father murdered ! My love slain ! Ah me ! 
I would go forth — but where ? And should he come. 
And I away. He bade me stay. Be still 
My heart — I can but wait. I must be calm. 

Sht Sings. 

Oh ! it is sweet to be beloved. 
And oh ! to love, 'tis sweet. 

There comes a crowd. They're armed and pour along, 

As if into a battle they did rush. 

If he's with them he'll make some sign to me. 

Muter Mark a/tid Angelo, ^uit^b a croiod of Students and CiMsens, a/rmed, &c., &c. 

MarJc. Hurrah, my men ! Would we had wings. 
Or too late for the battle we shall be, [Haste, haste. 

And miss our portion in the victory. 
A bulletin for him who' s bravest now ! 

Angela. Heaven grant to us that we may be in time. 
I would give years of ordinary life, 
To be there in the hour of victory. [brave. 

Mark. Hurrah ! Hurrah ! On — on ! We'll all be 
And merit, though we win not, bulletins. 
Merit is ever better than success. 
And to deserve more than to win renown. 

Exeunt crowd. 

Anna. He was not there. Most like he' s gone before, 
And now stands foremost in the stately ranks, 
Where death is picking out the choicest ones. 

She sings. 



Scene I. the conspiracy; 6f 

Oh ! it is sweet to be beloved. 

And oh ! to love 'tis sweet. 
But both to love and to be loved, 

Is bliss indeed complete. 
The light from eyes that mutual shine 
With loving- looks, is light divine. 

Ah, me ! singing at sucli a time ! 

Father and lover botli — ^lost — dead — or death 

Perchance poising at them his fatal shaft — 

I all alone ! "Would I could die with them. 

'Twas the last song he sang to me — the last 

Perhaps he'll ever sing. If so, the last 

Too I will ever sing. Ha ! who comes there ? 

My father? Father! Blessed Heaven ! 'Tis he. 

SJie rushes to the door. Enter Dr. John. She throws herself into Ms arms. 

Dr. Jolm. My daughter ! Heaven has brought me' 
back to you. [to me ; 

Anna. Aye — truly, Heaven has brought you back 
For this indeed is Heaven. How was it you escaped % 

Dr. Jolm. The King is dead. The Princess now our 
Queen, 
Has thrown the prisons open. All are free. 

Anna. The Princess Queen! Oh, joy! Oh blissful 
Grentle and loving will she ever be ; [news 1 

Her sway the same even as liberty. 
Better if ruled by love, than to be free. 
Aye, doubly bright the dawn that's breaking now. 

Dr. JoTin. The bright dawn ever follows the dark 
Let' s ever cherish Patience and sweet Faith, [hours; 
The earth rolls on — ^however black the night, 
'Twill bring us out into the bright clear light. 

Anna. But why these guns, and shouts^ and fearful 
cries ? 
Do they resist the Princess, and refuse 
*ro yield unto her gentle, blessed sway % [i^eign. 

Dr. Jolm. ISTo. All rejoice to know that she will- 



% THE CONSPIEACY. ACT "V. 

And with glad welcome hail her as their Queen. 

But now without the walls a desperate fight 

Is raging with the proud invading foe. 

The citizens and troops together march 

"To drive the enemy from oil our soil. 

In desperate battle are they now engaged, 

And this the din and roar of the fierce fight. [Speak ! 

Anna. Heaven be with them. How goes the battle ? 
Is there no word or sign how it inclines ? 

Dr. Jolm. Nothing biit what these noises do portend.- 
List to the distant sounds. There is a change ; 
The cannonading slackens, and doth seem 
To roll off in the distance, as the foe 
Did yield before our army. Sounds it not 
Fainter and farther to your ear ? Hark ! Hear ! 

Anna. Fainter the volleys strike upon the ear, 
And duller boom the echoes 'gainst the sky. 
As if the battle farther rolled away. 

J)r. Jolm. 'Tis like, the enemy is now in flight. 
And the fierce roar of battle follows them. [arni. 

Anna. God help us now, and make bare His right 
Hist ! I heard music — a faint, far-off strain. 
It now has ceased. Ha, there it is again. 
Do you hear it % From afar it comes. 

Dr. Jolin. ISFothing I hear but these fierce noises 
And the deep distant booming of the fight. [round, 

Anna. Through all these sounds it pierces to my ear j 
Nearer and clearer to me it doth come. 
'Tis a triumphant strain — a peal of joy. 
Do you not hear it 1 Clearer now it comes. 
And there — a cry I hear— a shout far off ; 
A whisper as it seems. It comes again, 
it is — it is the shout of victory. 

Dr. Jolm. Heaven grant that it is so, that she' 
hears true. 

Anna. Louder and higher rises that glad strain, 



Scene I. the conspiracy. 89 

And clearer ring the shouts upon my ear, 
And victory — victory is all the cry. 

Musia and shouting heard in the distance. 

Dr. John. I hear it now. 'Tis a triumphant peal, 
And with it mingle cheers and cries of joy — 
Shouts of glad tidings halloed from afar. 

Bells rinff, cannon fired and shouting heard. 

The city now is learning the glad news, 

And pouring through the streets wild with delight. 

Aye, ring ye bells ! be jubilant, ye guns ! 

Let universal joy shout through the land. 

Anna. The Lord is with us — God is on our side. 
He giveth unto us the victory. 
He makes the right to triumph by His might, 
And scattereth in flight His enemies. 
The foe doth flee ; the oppressor is no more ; 
Our Country is redeemed, and we are free. 
The Lord be praised. Let glory evermore 
And thanks be paid unto His holy name. 

Dr. John. Most wonderful is our deliverance. 
A great salvation has been wrought for us. 
Had He sent forth His angels visibly 
From Heaven to fight for us. His gracious help 
And goodness unto us, in this our need, 
Could not have been more plainly manifest. 
Here come the people. They are mad with joy. 

Enter citizens, shouting, &a. 

1st Citizen. Huzza, Huzza! They come! They'll 

soon be here. 
^d Citizen. Yonder they are — there is a troop of them. 
Here' s the brave soldiers. See how proud they march. 
'dd Citizen. And well they may, 'tis a proud day 

for them. 
4ih Citizen. They'll tell of it in story ages hence. 
In songs and ballads they will sing of it. 



90 THE COlSrSPIEACY. AcT Y. 

5t7i citizen. A miglity hero general he'll be. 

1,5^ Citizen. He could have taught old Boney tricks 

of war. 
2d Citizen. The greatest victory of the century. 
^d Citizen. The greatest since Charles beat the Sar- 
acens, 
And slew a million of them in one day. [Turks 

4:th Citizen. I wish he'd lead an army 'gainst the 
And rescue from them the Lord' s sepulchre. 
2d Citizen. A million men would march with him 

for that. 
^d Citizen. I'd go with him. 
Semral Citizens. And I, and I. 

1st Citizen. Aye, all the boys who' re brave would 
march with him. 
Here come they with the prisoners. Huzza ! 

Enter Music, then Soldiers with Prisoners in procession. 

Dr. Jo7in. These are the fruits, the sad results of war. 
Their soiled and ragged banners droop, as if 
Ashamed at their defeat, they could not wave, 
But hung their heads, and mourned their sad disgrace. 
Alas ! that it is so. That in their shame 
And sorrow should our Joy and triumph be. 
Christian and civilized we call ourselves, 
But still barbarian in heart remain ; 
Our culture mostly in the garbs we wear, 
In names, and forms, and immaterial shows, 
Merely a more elaborate barbarism. 

Anna. 1 knew this music from the first — far off. 
I've heard him sing it when in happy mood. 
Perhaps he comes with them and bids them play it. 
There march the st.udents yonder. He'll be there. 
They wave their banners to us, but pass on. 
He' s not among them. I would know his step 
Amidst a myriad of marching men. 



Scene I. the conspieacy. 91 

Here come the wounded. Heaven help me now, 
Should he be one of them. 

Enter mournful music, and then, a train of woiMided and dead. They continue 
passing along. 

Be still my heart, 
I must be calm, and patiently await 
Whatever Heaven brings of joy or woe. 
But oh ! good Heaven ! if it may be thy will. 
Spare him to me ; shield and protect my love, 
And save him for his country and for me. 

D7\ John. This is the price that ever must be paid 
For victory and glory. Who can look 
On scene like this, and wish to win and wear 
"War' s guilty laurels, dripping thus with blood. 
A temple should be reared of human bones, 
And skulls dug from earth's thousand battle-fields, 
As Tiniour reared his horrid pyramids ; 
And there should be entombed the conquerors, 
Who, for mere glorj', or for selfish ends, 
Do stir up wars : and in it they should lie 
For all the ages, as they glided by, 
To heap their curses and their scorn upon. 
And there, too, I would have an image reared. 
Feeding on human flesh, and quafiing blood. 
And I would name it Glory, martial Fame ; 
That there the fools that worship it might see 
The hideous thmg they pay their homage to. 
Glory ! the idol of barbarians ' tis ; 
The ignorant and brutal worship it. 
It is a Moloch fed with human blood ; 
Its priests the Caesars and the conquerors. 
Who heap its horrid sacrifices up. 
And pour to it its dark libations forth. 
The tears and blood which they do cause to flow. 

Anna. Father ! you mean not these poor wounded 
men, 



92 THE COI^SPIEACY. ACT V. 

Who thus have suffered in their country's cause ? 

Dr.JoTin. No, they tiie victims are, the martyred ones, 
Who have been basely, foully sacrificed. 
The monsters I condemn, the rulers are. 
Who have betrayed them to this cruel fate. 
All honor to the loyal citizen. 
Who for his country in its need goes forth, 
To battle for its freedom and its rights. 
The citizen who fights for liberty. 
And at his country' s call, in its defence. 
Pours forth his blood, a blessed martyr is. 
With noble death he crowns a noble life. 
Holy should be the ground where he is laid. 
Let monumental marbles mark the spot, 
And ever let the people there repair. 
To strew with flowers the patriot soldier' s grave, 
And from full hearts in song and eulogy. 
Unto their spirits, doubtless hovering near, 
Return the nation' s gratitude and praise. [care, 

Anna. Father ! These wounded soldiers will need 
And gentle tendance in their helplessness ; 
May I not go unto the hospitals 
And minister unto them in their need ? 
Surely, the daughters of the land should nurse 
The sons, who risk their lives in its defence. 
And who lie bleeding, helpless in their wounds. 

Dr. John. Aye ! beautiful and blessed is such task, 
A nation' s highest duty it should be, 
, Its holiest religion, e' er to care 
For them, the brave who bleed in its defence. 
And old age, too, whose day of battle 's o'er, 
May aid in the good work. All that we have 
And all that we can do, we will devote 
Unto these bleeding heroes. Let us haste, 
We'll go together to this blessed work. 

Exit Dr. John, into the house. 



Scene IL the conspieacy. 98 

Anna. There come a troop of students. There' s the 
And Paul, but they come not exultmgly, [Prince, 
But bowed as if they mourned some sad reverse, 
Rather than marched in triumph. He' s not there. 
I'd know him in the crowd, as I would mark 
The stately pine, towering amidst the grove. 
We'll haste unto the hospital. Perhaps 
He' s there, wounded and helpless. Oh, dear Prank ! 
My love ! my life ! Where can I find you now ? 
Save him, good Heaven ! and bring him back to me. 
Or if that may not be, take me to him. 

Exit into the, house. 

Mnte/r the Prince, Paul, Mark, Ernest, and. Students from the procession with the 
iody of Frank. 

MarJc. This is the house. 'Tis here they live. 
They were his dearest friends, whom he did love. 
He told us if he fell, to bring him here. 
The door is open. Bear the body in. 

They carry the tody into the house. A pause, and then a shriek is heard witMn. 

The Prince. A heart burst in that cry. 
Paul. 'Twas she he loved. 

Curtain falls. 



Scene u.—In the Palace. Enter Dr. John, Ernest, cmd Julian. 

Bt. John. Give him the years of Csesar and he'll gild 
With his renown a brighter page than Caesar' s. 

Julian. What speak you of? What mean these 
shouts, this din 
Of bells, and bellowing of artillery % 

Ernest. It is in honor of the victory. 

Julian. What victory % 

Br. John. Have you not heard of it ? 

I thought Fame had so bruited it abroad, 
That every mortal ear did ring with it. 
Last night, the self same hour the old King died, 



94 THE CONSPTEACY, ACT V. 

After they had proclaimed the Princess Queen, 

Amidst glad acclamations, Paul arrayed 

The citizens and students with the troops, 

And swiftly led them 'gainst the enemy 

That were encamped without the city walls. 

Ere dawn, he held the heights about the foe, 

And girt him round as with a wall of fire. 

The roar of battle with the morning rose, 

Such battle as we read of in old times. 

When heroes fought for freedom, and each arm 

Scattered its legions. Soon the routed foe. 

Begging their lives, piteous, laid down their arms, 

And our young hero conqueror, e' en now 

Returning to the city, thus is hailed. 

With shouts of triumph by the exultant crowd. 

Exeunt Dr. John and Ernest. 

Julian. We're merely puppets in the hands of Fate, 
And most fantastic tricks it plays with us. 
Last night assassin, now a conqueror. 
With glory won and an immortal name ! 
Life is a medley for madmen to play ; 
]^ay, 'tis a strange, weird, wondrous harmony, 
A piece with the celestial symphonies. 
That rightly played might be — how beautiful ! 
But given to us, poor bunglers, all untaught, 
With these frail instruments of ours, 
These bodies and these souls, so complicate. 
So delicate, so ever out of tune, 
But sad, mad work we needs do make of it, — 
And though we now and then may catch some strain 
Of the sweet, heavenly melody, yet, ah, 
'Tis mostly Jarring and harsh dissonance. 
Well, well, or sweet, or harsh, Pll dash it through. 
He' s playing well his joart, I'll play mine too. 
I'll watch my chance, and in his very top 
Of triumph, I will hurl the charge at him. 



Scene II. the conspieacy. 95 

And brand him as a murderer ; or else 

I'll stab, and try on liim tlie game lie played 

Upon the King. Who are these coming here ? 

Be-Enter De. John and Ernest. Thm, enter Mark and Soldiers with Captive 
Officers, Banners, &c., &e. Th&y pass to one side. 

Ernest These are the banners of the enemy, 
Taken in fight — trophies of victory. 
These are the captive officers, and this 
The general. 

Dr. Jolm. His star doth pale before 
This newly risen meteor of ours. [what grace 

Ernest. They come to yield their swords, and learn 
The Queen will grant to them. Lo ! there comes Paul. 
He' s lost in musing. Let us stand aside, 
And not disturb him in his reverie. 

Enter Paul. 

Paul. 'Tis not for fame or greatness that I care, 
To be a giant or of mind or limb, 
And hold the world in wonder of my might. 
But could I speak to men some true high word, 
To do them good — some pure immortal thought, 
That might survive me, treasured in their minds, 
I'd rather dying speak that single -v^ord, 
Than have the mightiest sceptre given me, 
That conqueror ever wielded over earth. 

Eiter the Prince. He gives Paul a letter. 

Prince. A message from the Queen I bring to you. 
She bade me come and place it in your hand. 
She will in person shortly follow it. [thanks I 

Paul {reading). She thanks me for the victory. Her 
Oh sweet reward ! More precious 'tis to me, 
Than e'en the glory of the victory. 
She bids me make such treaty Avith the foe. 
As shall be best and most effectual 
For the true weal and honor of the realm. 
Well ! I've a plan of treaty with the foe,, 



'96 THE CONSPIRACY. AcT Y. 

That will dispose of liim effectually. 
Where are the prisoners ? 

Ernest. They yonder stand) 

Awaiting your commands. 

Paul. Let them advance. 

General and Officers come forward. 

General. Thy genius and the fate of war make us 
Your prisoners. Sadly we yield our swords ; 
Yet 'tis a solace in surrendering them, 
That we may place them thus in hero hands. 

Se offers 7iis sicord to Paul. 

Paul. Take back thy sword. Give me thy hand 
It is thy heart I' d have thee yield to me, [instead. 
And not thy weapon. It ts victory, 
Nobler to win, captive to love, the soul, 
Than 'tis to take body prisoner. 
Go lead your armies back unto their homes, 
With all their arms and ancient glories decked ; 
I would not pluck an honor from their brows. 
But prouder than they came would send them back. 
And tell them, henceforth we will strive with them, 
ISTot in vile, brutish deeds of hate and blood. 
And mutual injury, but in proud works. 
That make the nations blest — in strife for good, 
In competition of the beautiful. 
And rivalry of grand beneficence. 
And all high aims, that liken earth to Heaven. 
And when by generous deeds of blessed peace, 
Ye shall excel what we shall do for you, 
Then truly say that you have conquered us, 
And won bright, glorious victories over us. 
Go, sir ! You're free to march whene'er you list. 

General. It is no wonder thou didst conquer us. 

Dr. John. This is a new sight 'neath the sun, and one 
He'll Joy to see. 



BCENB II. THE CONSPIRACY. 97 

Tlie Prince. 'Tis the new era dawned, 
The beam that heralds the niillenium. 

Marie. A fitting climax to his victory ! 
Like Ossa piled on Pelion, he heaps up 
Great deeds. 

General. It is a double conquest. Thus 
Do I surrender unto thee. 

He throws himself into Paul's arms. 

Dr. JoJm. How mean to this a Roman triumph were,' 
In its poor, pompous vanity ! How few 
The conquerors, who know how to improve 
Truly their victories ! What sad mistakes 
History records of famous battle-fields ! 
What opportunities of glory lost 
By the vain, vulgar victors i * ^^ * 

'" ''• ''• * Ah, Sedan! 

Poor copy now of Jena ! what renown 
Might have been thine, glory unparalleled, 
And all thine own, if great of soul, as strong 
Of arm, had been thy conquerors ! [now; 

Julian {aside). He's reached the very top of triumph 
I would proclaim him as a murderer. 
But I do fear, that midst his minions here. 
He'll have me seized and silenced, and his word 
And present influence will far outweigh 
My evidence. I'll act more daringly. 
I'll stab him first, with a sure, fatal stroke. 
And then proclaim him as a murderer. 
And I'll so prove his crime, when he lies low, 
'Twill justify me to the gentle Queen, 
For killing him, the assassin of her sire. 
Mayhap, I'm like the Indian, who to drag 
His rival down, did with hun tlirow hhnself 
Over the precipice. Yet, so be it. 
I'd rather die with, than live under him. 
Die, murderer I 

He rushes at and stabs Paul, 



§8 THE COKSPIEACY. ACT V. 

Paid. God ! Didst tlion let liim ? Didst 
Thou mean it ? This tlie end of all ? 'lis so. 
My work is done. Life' s dream of beanty — hope — 
Love— glory — doing good — all o' er. I die. 

He falls. 

Prince. What hast thou done % Didst mean to mur- 
der him ? 
Ernest. He' s stabbed and murdered him. 
Marie.- Let' s kill him too ; 

No business out of hell has such a fiend. 

He rushes at Julian, &Mi is held iack. 

Julian. I do accuse him as a murderer. 
He killed the King. He' s the King' s murderer. 

Marie. Assassin ! Liar ! Would that thou didst have 
A thousand lives, that we might torture them. 

Julian. He killed the King. He's the King's 
murderer. 

Metric, Thou, art thyself a murderer, — 
A double, damned, habitual murderer. [Heaven, 

There shall be vengeance. Heaven ! thou art not 
If thou dost let this deed go unavenged. 

Ernest. I'd hang him on a gallows mountain high. 

Prince. Earth has no dungeon dark enough for him, 
!N"o hole that' s deep enough to hurl him in. 

Enter the Queen, Pauline anO, aitendamts. 

Queen. "What angry noise is this? What means 
this scene ? 

Prince. Alas, the foulest and most mournful deed. 
That ever in the course of time was done, 
In all its lists of crime, has now been wrought. 

Marie. Most fiendishly he has been stabbed and slain. 

Pauline (Jeneeling dy Paul). 
My brother stabbed ? slain ! Dead, is he ? 
Paul ! Brother ! would that I could die with thee. 

Queen. Dead ! oh ! no, say not dead. Is there 
no hope ? 



Scene II. the conspiracy. ,99 

Paul ! speak to me. My liero. 'Tis thy Queen 
Dotli kneel by tliee, and bid thee speak to her. 
Still art thon ? Not one word 1 I am thy Queen, 
And I'll avenge thee, Who was't did this deed ? 

MarTi. Here's the assassin. Cruel, bloody fiend ; 
Let him be seized, and with fierce tortures racked. 

Julian. Most gracious Queen ! I do confess myself 
Tlie slayer of this man. It was this hand 
That struck the blow, by which his blood pours forth. 
But 'twas because he is a murderer, 
The murderer of your father, most just Queen ! 
That I did strike the blow. Let me be tried, 
And I will demonstrate by certain proofs, 
That he did kill the King most treacherously. 
While on his bed, helpless in his old age, 
And innocent sleep he slumbered. When I saw 
Him here exulting, haughty in his crime. 
Justice compelled my arm, and I did rush 
And strike the blow, that laid him there. 
Let me be tried, and by resistless proofs, 
I will make certain all that I proclaim, 
And prove him your great father' s murderer. 

Queen. Alas ! Can this be so ? 

Marh. Liar infinite ! 

Queen. Oh ! no. It cannot be. Can angels do 
The deeds of devils, and be angels still ? 

Mark. Incarnate demon ! Slanderer ! Murderer ! 
Thou hast most foully slain him ; wouldst thou now 
Attack his pure and stainless character % 
Why did he not, most gracious Queen, prefer 
This dastard accusation while Paul lived, 
And could with his least word repel the lie ? 
Why cowardly thus stab him first, and then 
"With this base slander doubly murder him % [him, 

Julian. Could he now speak, I' d charge the same to 
As I do o' er his mute and lifeless form. 



100 THE COTTSPIEACY. ACT Yo 

Ha ! lie dotli stir. Behold ! lie dotli revive. 
Now let the charge be plainly put to him, 
And see what he will answer. 

Paul {remmng). What means this ? 

Why am I here ? My scattered thoughts return. 
My Queen ! beloved sister ! my dear friends ! 
I can but say farewell unto you all. [sign. 

Pauline, Paul ! speak to me a word. Make but a 
This fiend, who stabbed thee, makes the charge that 

thou 
Didst kill the King. Oh, speak, or make some sign, 
If thou canst speak not, that the charge is false. 

Ernest. Aye, baseless as 'tis base and dastardly. 

Paul Does he accuse me % Does he make such 
charge ? 

Julian. Aye, sir ! that thou art the King' s murderer. 

Prince. Beloved friend ! speak but a word. 'Tis not 
That we need proof to disbelieve the lie. 
Or doubt of thy most perfect innocence ; 
But we would have thy word, that it may whelm 
The fiend in utter and resistless scorn. 

Paul. My Prince ! dear friends ! I'm not a murderer. 

MarTc. There, villain ! liar ! said I not 'twas so ? 
We'll draw the falsehood blistering froin thy lips. 
I' d stake my soul, and all its hopes of Heaven, 
Upon his pure and perfect innocence, 
ISTo spot or stain is there on his clear soul. [you^ 

Paul. Dear sister ! Raise me, friends ! I'll speak to 
As I must soon to Him, the Judge, to whom 
I'm hasting. I did say that I was not 
A murderer — and yet, 'tis true, dear friends. 
That I am here with thought to kill the King ; 
But God was here before me, His own work 
To do himself. The murderer is he 
WTio strikes in malice ; but my thought was born 
Qf a most holy motive, and did spring 



Scene II. the conspieacy. 101 

From pure love to my country and the world. 

He's gone, where soon I'll meet him, and I'd speak 

'Not harshly of the dead, but you do know 

He was a tyrant, and most grievously 

Did crush, the land he should have ruled in love, 

And all his Grod-given powers he did pervert 

To basest and most wicked purposes. 

■The subject and the citizen, if they 

Do violate the law, unto that law 

Must give account and bear its penalty. 

But when our kings and rulers, they who are 

The sworn and trusted guardians of the State, 

The ministers of justice and of law. 

When they do trample on that law, and use 

Their powers to base and selfish ends, there' s none 

To call them to account, but Gfod alone. 

And the true patriot, who fearlessly, 

And for his country, in stern righteousness, 

Will greatly dare and strike for her and Heaven. 

Power is not a right — a property ; 

'Tis but a trust, for sacred uses given. 

If he to whom it is confided, doth 

Betray his trust, and use it for base ends, 

It is foul treachery. A traitor he 

Unto his country, to the world, to Heaven. 

His crime involves, and doth include all crime. 

He doth outrage all law and every right. 

An outlaw he doth make himself, the mark 

For every vengeful bolt Justice can hurl. 

He is his country' s deadliest enemy, 

At war with all who love her, and each one 

In her defence and in his own may rise, 

And arm himself, and justly execute 

Justice and judgment on his guilty head. 

My word is uttered. My life-work is done. 

May good result from it. I die content. 



102 THE CONSPIEACT. ACT V. 

Julian. Did I not say lie would confess liis crime ? 
Bear witness all, that by liis dying words 
He dotli convict himself, and that he is 
By his confession, the King' s murderer. 

Prince. His act, whate' er it be, doth not excuse, 
Or mitigate thy crime. Thy deed, at least. 
Was murder, foul and willful murder. Take 
Him forth to prison. 

Exe/wnt Officers loitJi Julian. 

Dr. John. He' s breathing now his last. 

Ernest. Oh, piteous, lamentable sight! 

Prince. His action, although fearful it may seem 
To vulgar apprehension, yet was grand 
And noble, sprung from a most pure intent, 
And such as in all cases like to it. 
The patriot may take for precedent, [too, 

Ernest. Ah, that's a dangerous doctrine- Tyrants 
Can sharpen daggers keen as patriots can. 
The liberators vulnerable are 
As the usurpers. Not the only one 
Is Caesar that has fallen. Ah ! how oft 
Has Freedom mourned its martyred champions. 
Et., tu Brute ! words not of mere reproach. 
But prophecy. Aye, thou too, Brutus ! Thou 
At last didst for thyself entreat the fate, 
With which thou struck' st down Caesar, and thyself 
Didst on thyself avenge thy slaughtered friend. 
And he whom we now mourn has drank 
But of the cup he mingled. Is it not 
An usurpation, even the same wrong 
That we condemn, for one unauthorized 
To seize this fearful power of life and death, 
And self-elected, constitute himself 
Both Judge and executioner % 

Dr. Jolm. It is a question, a most solemn one. 
For, doubtless, it is God' s prerogative. 



Scene II. the cojstspiract. 103 

To take, e'en as He only givetli life. 
Yet, 'tis no less a truth, a sacred truth. 
That by all principles of law and right. 
The tyrants and usurpers are condemned, 
As chief and basest of all criminals. 
Least fit to live, and most deserving death. 
Let the world' s rulers, Kings, and Emperors, 
And Presidents, be made to understand, 
That 'tis not for themselves, their powers 
Are given them, not for their pleasure, pomp, 
Or glory, but the people' s good, — the peace. 
The culture and well-being of the millions. 
And in this sacred trust, if they prove false. 
Guilty they stand before the world condemned. 
Of traitors chief, of malefactors worst. 
And the most criminal of criminals. 

Tlie Queen. So do I deem ; and I do hold myself 
Accountable to these same principles. 
That by his dying words and living act 
Our friend has taught to us. If in the place 
I hold in the State, I do abuse ni}^ powers, 
Or bend them to base uses, then may each 
Of you be true unto your country, as 
He was, and in my bosom seek a sheath 
For all your weapons. What noise was that ? 

Enter an Officer. 

Offi^cer. The citizens, in wild excitement, rush * 
About the Palace, and tumultuously 
They do lament the fate of him they loved : 
And when they saw Count Julian, as he came 
Forth midst the guards, they tore Mm from the troopSy 
And in their rage, did rend him into pieces. 
Dr. Joliii. The lightnings of God's justice, tliougk 

they seem 
Oft to fly wildly, yet are swift and sure. 



104 THE CONSPIRACY; ACT V.' 

Ernest. He's passing now away. 



Paul Dies. 



Prince. Alas ! lie's gone. 

Pauline. Paul! Brotlier ! would that I might die' 
with. you. 

Prince. The pearly gates are swinging for him now: 

MarJc. There'll ne'er a purer spirit enter them. 

Dr. John. 'Tis well to sorrow for the noble dead ; 
And tears are manly now. He' s passed away, 
But yet not wholly. They who greatly live 
Do never wholly pass away or die ; 
For though their forms may vanish from our sight, 
Their lips no more breathe music in our ears, 
Yet in their deeds they live, their works survive, 
Thek words ring echoing through the centuries. 
Still fights the Spartan at Thermopylae ; 
Still in his song divine doth Milton sing ; 
Still his immortal truths unto the world. 
In deathless words, proclaimeth Jefferson, 
And where'er Freedom lifts its banner high. 
There Washington, its foremost champion ; 
^till aids to win conquests for liberty. 



Exeuht. 



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